Shut up and kiss me
by kimmiesjoy
Summary: A set of interconnecting kiss based one shots set in the not so distant Caskett future.
1. Surprise

**A/N:** Nothing you read here will contain spoilers for anything other than aired episodes.

To Indie, for giving me the prompt, thank you lovely, for your patience, belief and help these last few weeks.

Thank you for reading.

**Disclamier** : (cos I haven't for a while) : I adore, beyond words, the show. I have nothing whatsoever to do with it.

* * *

_"You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how."_

* * *

**Early September 2014**

* * *

When she arrives, in the back of a cab that circles slowly, the sun is streaming through the trees, dapples of green reflecting here and there, everywhere around her bathed in the almost silent beauty of the tail end of summer.

There are orange and gold flecks in among the green, twisted up with the browns of bark and twig - the first signs of fall approaching - but not enough that it looks anything other than a warm summer day. And she should be able to enjoy it, but her stomach is in knots.

Kate takes another breath to steady herself, the two before doing nothing at all to calm her racing heart, and she watches the view dart past the window. It doesn't help - this deep breathing she's got going - doesn't soothe or calm her as it should, but she tries again, and again, and though she holds her breath a few seconds longer than she should, it in no way slows her heart's erratic beat.

He asked her to meet him here, of all places, and though Kate tries not to panic, tries to remember the last time they stood here together, the last time they were happy here, she finds herself fidgeting and on edge.

Her eyes dart over the grass before her, the rise and fall of terrain so familiar and though she scans the area with finesse born of years of practice and on the job tactics, right now she doesn't feel like Beckett - kick ass detective - she's just Kate, heart open, lip worrying, fiancee of the sweetest, kindest man.

She knows if she could spot him she'd feel better.

There is no reason to worry or fret, not really, but they have had one hell of a year and it's hard to be apart from him - to be out of the loop. But he asked her to come and she came, of course she came. With the card in her hand, clenched tight between her fingers and a scowl across her forehead leaving her eyes feeling tight and pinched with the strain of it all, Kate holds the paper, turning it over and over again in her unrelenting grip.

The envelope is lilac, she smiles, touches at the soft swirl font of her name and turns it over once more. The paper inside thin, white and delicate, and seeing it sends a pang of something equal parts painful and beautiful through her chest.

The note is simple, bearing only a place name, time and date in Castle's handwriting, so clear and precise that she takes comfort in each word as she traces them one by one with the tip of her finger.

Two words as instruction are written at the bottom and her hands shake a little each time she reaches them.

**Meet me? **

She sighs a long shaking breath and touches at the question mark that lingers at the end of those two words. Because he _knows_ her and loves her, wants _her_ and he'll wait if she needs him to, all she has to do it say when, say yes.

All she ever had to do was say _yes_.

So of course, of course she'll meet him.

With her heart in her mouth and her fingers white with anticipation. Of course she'll meet him. And suddenly, as if the ride itself has come as a surprise, she's here, there, where she's _supposed_ to be, as asked, and the cab rolls to a stop, engine still running for a quick getaway. But when Kate leans forward to pay, she startles back as the door opens at her side revealing the very man who requested her presence.

He makes her jump - and laughs at the shocked look she knows breaks across her face - and her hand flutters to her heart in shock, the delicate card she clung to so tightly suddenly forgotten on the seat next to her. A shaft of sunlight streams in through the open door and blinds her for a moment, her hand flying up to shield her face and Kate leans away from the open door.

Slowly, and through rapidly fluttering lashes, the black white blur of summer sun begins to clear and when her eyes finally adjust she takes him in - Castle - standing there with his hand extended for her and ... _oh!_

Her heart starts to beat a little faster.

No, scratch that, it _pounds_, it pounds harder and louder and harder still when Castle ducks down so she can see his face, with bright shining eyes and happy smile, and he waggles his fingers demanding that she take his hand.

"Katherine Beckett," he smiles softly, and oh, just his voice alone tells her everything, "I know we tried this once before -" Oh god, she's going to cry and her feet feel like lead and he's wearing a charcoal grey suit with the top buttons of his crisp white shirt popped open the way she likes.

She loves to slip her fingers in against the warmth of his chest, feel the beat of his heart under her touch - the beat almost her own as it permeates her skin - and he knows. The soft and teasing twinkle in his eyes tells her over and over again he _knows _how much she loves it.

Her hand shakes as it slides against the gentle but insistent press of his palm, their fingers twine and his thumb sweeps the back of her knuckles sending waves of reassurance through her immediately.

The breeze seems to call her out, beckon her from the car and when it takes a second too long for nature's enticement to lure her free, Castle clasps both of her hands in his and pulls her up from the back of the cab.

The sunlight is intense and blinding, making her eyes flare wide and then close rapidly as Kate gasps and for a brief moment - before the golden rays force her into self imposed darkness - Kate catches a white flutter behind him.

Her fingers tighten in his and Castle whispers at her to breathe.

She can still hear the murmur of voices floating around them like foam on an ocean spray, that sweet sound of family, so familiar.

His fingers touch her face and she opens her eyes. They're almost nose to nose, Castle's gaze flitting over her face with more warmth than the sun that streams down over them and a loud, shocked noise - half caught in her throat half expelled in the grip of her fingers when they land on his chest - escapes her mouth.

It's all written there in the lines of his face, his intentions clear and honest, his love a light that shines from within, casting away the shadow of fear and doubt. Kate finds she can't release the strangle hold she has on his collar when he starts to speak. She knows his words are about to floor her once again, take her knees out from under her, and she needs something to hold on to.

Him, she needs him.

His voice is low and his words sound steady, relaxed, confident. He's as sure of her and this and whatever it is he has planned as he has ever been of anything. He's serious in the quiet way that breaks her apart with its single focused intensity. He commands the world to be quiet all around her with just the whisper of her name.

"Kate -" Castle brushes his knuckles across her cheek, curls a strand of hair behind her ear and brings her closer, " - We tried this once before and it was a _disaster_."

Tears fill her eyes then as the memories of May come at her, hard and fast. But it's not the rush of panic that she swallows down, not remembrance for how what should have been a perfect, sweet, love filled, romantic day turned against them that steals her breath. It's knowledge of why she's here now and what's about to happen that stuns her into a blurry eyed silence.

God, she loves him with so much of herself that if she could give it all over to him right now, all the pieces that make up how and why and exactly how much she loves him, she's not sure there would be anything left.

"But we came through it." Castle promises, swears, reminds her all at once.

She nods, she can do nothing else, tipping into his hand when he wipes away a stray tear, eyes glistening as they watch each other. They wear matching smiles, loving and sweet and he touches at her lips when Kate's start to quiver.

"Stronger."

God, yes, they are stronger for it, for everything they have had to endure. The worry and the fear, the nightmares that came after. They are stronger. Unbreakable.

"Closer."

Yes, yes, she nods, he's right, she couldn't have survived these last few months with anyone else. Kate squeezes him tighter, not afraid he'll disappear but claiming a little, reminding both that as much as she's his, he's hers too. And yes, there is worry as the memories return, but they are fleeting, nothing in face of what they have.

Castle makes everything better.

He _always_ has.

"Together."

"Yes." Kate croaks, both weak and fierce and holding onto him like she will never let go. Because she won't. It's that simple.

"So, Katherine -" he hums at her ear " - Houghton -" his lips light and warm over her cheek " - Beckett -" their smiles meet, even if hers is a little watery, " - will you marry me right here and now? Outside in the park, straightforward and easy, with just the people we love most in the world - staring creepily?"

He turns her slowly, his arm a secure and grounding loop around her waist, his chin dipping down to rest on her shoulder as she surveys the scene beyond. A little group of ten or so gather before them, watching, not a single one of them ashamed to be they do stare, creepily and not so creepily, with bright knowing eyes and mischievous, conspiratorial smiles. With nods and waves and tippy-toed excitement they each let Kate know in their own ways that they were in on the plan.

Her whole family working together.

They let her know that they remember too and _this time_ it will all be okay.

The swings - their swings - creak idly in the wind, the chains on two of them strung through with flowers and she catches sight of petals fluttering as the seats move with the breeze. And slowly, oh so slowly she realizes that everyone is waiting on her.

Her writer, again - and probably always - waiting on her!

"I'm wearing jeans." Kate croaks, ridiculous and shocked and for whatever reason - whatever reason that makes her the luckiest woman in the world - Castle laughs and holds her a little tighter.

His laughter ripples out through their congregation and he plays up to it, squeezing her tight, "Can you never just say 'yes'?"

He grins at her side, his arms wrapping around her and holding her to his chest, the press of his grin into the side of her neck tickling so that she squirms and Castle nudges her attention towards the waiting masses.

She croaks and groans and when she still finds herself lost for words he sighs, rolls his hand over her hip to touch at the denim and hums quietly, "Then they'll have a great view watching you walk down the aisle." He laughs again, a teasing caress making her jump in his arms and her father clear his throat and _oh, really?_ that makes Castle look a little sheepish.

His eyes drop to hers and suddenly she can see that he's nervous and _really Castle?_ as if she's saying no!

He holds her and wraps her up in the warmth of his body until she shivers and tilts into him. Castle moans under his breath, a delighted, sexy sound just for her and her heart thunders in response.

Wow.

Just. Wow.

She doesn't know how he does that, how he goes from sweet and silly, to cute, to sexy, loving, kind and downright delicious, all in mere seconds but she hopes he never stops. Hopes that they will always be _this_ to each other.

Kate stares at him, her eyes roaming and her heart swelling with want and pride and she focuses in on his lips, presses her own together wishing they were his she could feel. A throat clears again - maybe not her dad his time, maybe _his_ mother and _okay, okay_, they're as bad as each other - and her eyes fly up, a laugh spilling out and the blush to her cheeks chasing her lids as they flutter skyward.

"Will you?" He whispers and she turns, her arms rising up fast as she buries herself in him, kissing him hard and growling "Yes" so loudly the people behind them start to chatter animatedly.

Their excitement is catching and she deepens the kiss, nips at his mouth for his teasing and strokes over his lips gently in greeting. He lifts her off of her feet and sets her back down with a bump, their foreheads tipping into each other and snuffles of laughter shared between them.

Castle's breath scatters out across her cheek, his lips warm and wet as they softly meander over her skin and he hums, sounding delighted with himself as he does. He kisses her, again, once more, light and barely there in the summer sun, breathing the word against her lips.

"Surprise!"


	2. French

_"Kiss me like you wanna be loved."_

* * *

**April 1st 2015**

* * *

He's driving her crazy and they've only been awake for twenty minutes. Kate lets him loop around her like an excited puppy, trying desperately not to roll her eyes when he trips and stumbles in front of her.

"But it's my _birthday_." Castle whines, darting around again, waving his arms at Kate as she fills her coffee cup with water from the faucet.

"And I hope it's a happy one." She smiles sweetly over the rim of her cup, "But I'm still not doing it."

"You'd look so hot"

"How is _that_ an incentive?"

"It works for me."

She quirks an eyebrow at him, the narrowed field of her vision full of threat and violence and Castle starts to backtrack fast.

"Not that you don't _always_ look hot, like right now, with your hair all wonky and my shirt on? Gorgeous! And when you wear those jeans or the leather pants with the thing and you, just _you_, beautiful but -"

"Castle!" Kate exclaimed, breaking his flow before he could get in the full swing of _uho, my wife might be pissed at me _and completely sidetrack her, "Get it through that thick head of yours, I am not dressing up as a French maid. I don't care how old you are. It's. Not. Happening."

"Getting old sucks." With a grumpy pout Castle flops down at the table, exaggerating a wince in his back, sighing heavily in her direction, looking for sympathy.

He doesn't find it.

She grins, "Babe you're not old, just maturing like -"

"Cheese." He huffs, smooshing his face into the palm of his hand, sulking.

"I was gonna say fine wine, but, sure, we can go with your word." Kate smiles again, swallows thickly and sets down her cup, bracing herself against the countertop.

"You sure you don't want to just try on the little hat?" Castle hedges, his face suddenly alight with mischief and hope. "Hold the duster provocatively for a few minutes?"

"No. I do not." Kate smiles despite herself, pushing away from the counter and taking a deep, steadying breath. "Besides, I don't think it's an appropriate thing to ask the future mother of your child."

"Well, no that's why I was asking ... wait, what?" Castle lifts his head slowly, searching her face, finding her eyes and pushing himself up to walk toward her. "Are you serious?"

She nods, her lips pinched tight as she waits for him to react.

"You're not gonna be evil and yell 'April Fools' the second I get excited are you?"

His eyes narrow, but there is joy there, anticipation.

Kate shakes her head this time, watching the slow progression of his body, legs heavy with shock, surprise, wonder. "No, I wouldn't do that." She says it quietly, pressing the tips of her fingers to her own lips and the smile that betrays her own thoughts on their news.

"You're pregnant?" He asks, stopping just in front of her, his eyes dropping to the flat surface of her stomach as if he hopes to see through her skin and confirm it for himself. "You're really pregnant?"

"Yeah." Kate laughs, "Happy birthday, Castle." She reaches for him and he laughs, beating her to it, wrapping his hands tenderly around her waist and pulling her in close.

He lifts her off her feet, and yes, he must be aging like cheddar because this is quite easily the cheesiest kiss they've ever shared. Possibly the happiest too.

Castle gathers her up and lets her slide down his body slowly. She can feel the change in him already as he shifts around her, gentle, _protective_.

He kisses her, long and slow and full of wonder. A little French too, even though she won't put on the outfit and his fingers drift lazily over skin he will come to know extremely well in the next few months.

They pull apart breathless, exhilarated and laughing, foreheads touching as she giggles, her eyes shining back at him, elated.

"Happy birthday." This time she breathes it slowly and full of love, reminding him and he grins. It _is_ his birthday - one of the best ones yet - and he has to ask.

"You sure you don't wanna just _try on _the apron?"

It's still a no, but at least she kisses him to shut him up.


	3. Open mouth

_"Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips ..." _

* * *

**April 2014**

* * *

"Are we really doing this?" She whispers, as Castle dips her low his eyes dancing and his focus drifting as his head bops along with the music.

"Yup."

"This isn't even _our_ song." Kate grumbles and Castle pulls her upright, shrugging.

"That is not the point, Katherine." Martha berates and Castle snickers when his kick-ass detective suddenly looks sheepish, told off by his mother. Kate waits until Martha turns the other way, poking her tongue out at the retreating woman and jabbing her elbow into Castle's side so he yelps.

"What was that?" Martha asks, turning back to the poised pair with narrowed eyes.

"Dainty light-foot over here stubbed his toe." Kate smiles back sweetly turning her evil eyes on Castle when he opens his mouth to contradict her. He flinches, backs down and the balance restores itself as Kate breathes a sigh of relief.

"The wedding is fast approaching, children, and people will want a show." She waves her hands with a flourish and Kate smiles - tries to anyway - and lets Martha redirect the conversation. "It's not just about the vows and the first dance. It's about panache and showmanship, it's about wowing your audience -"

"Audience?"

"Congregation - whomever they may be." She waves her hand, dismissing them both and turning to an imaginary crowd of admirers, throwing her arms up wide, "It's about the pageantry."

"I thought it was about declaring your love." Kate points out, smiling at Castle when he turns to flash her with a wide grin.

"That, darling, goes without saying. For you two it's all about love and happily ever after. For the rest of us it's a _long_ day. We want a little excitement." Martha smiles sweetly, pushing them closer together and waving her hand for them to try again. "We want a show!"

She spins on the spot with a flourish only to turn back to the writer and his detective before they expect, catching them in the middle of either poking each other or mocking her. She glares until Kate goes a little pink in the face, biting down on her lip, her eyes dropping. Her son looks neither contrite nor ashamed, but he does look _happy_ and she couldn't really ask for more than that.

"The first kiss as man and wife is -" She waves her hands, gyrates with excitement, "It's the grand finale for the ceremony and it needs to be spectacular."

"Couldn't we just wing it?" Castle shrugs.

"Wing it?" Martha yelps.

"Ach." Kate turns to face him, her hands falling to her hips, "You want to '_wing_' our _first official married people_ kiss? Really?"

Castle jumps, tilting to the left, shocked by her sudden change in opinion, no longer at his side mocking his mother now, Kate is firmly on Team Martha. Scary theatrical kisses and all.

When his mother turns her back on them for a moment Castle points in confusion and raises his hands in a _what the hell, Beckett?_ gesture that makes her smirk.

Kate points and mouths "Mother in law" and shrugs like she has no choice, schooling her face immediately when Martha comes back to them.

His eyes flick back and forth between his mother and his fiancee, confused and sensing safety in neither direction he _wings_ this response too. Castle sidesteps and aims for the nearest chair to rest his aching feet, and both women round on him, their stances scarily similar as they approach him and force him to walk backwards into the couch instead.

"We are not winging our first kiss." Kate growls, "I am only doing this once, Castle." He can see the flicker of amusement in her eyes. There is a lot of bedroom voice in the Beckett making demands of him. Oh, well, _that_ he can get on board with!

"Really Richard, all the years you spent watching me on the stage, where is your sense of the theatric?"

"It ran away." He pouts, getting no sympathy as they proceed as if he has too.

Kate turns to Martha, leaving her intense gaze lingering over him for a few seconds before she begins to plan. Kate claps her hands together loudly, grinning when Castle jumps, "So what were you thinking?"

Martha smiles, "Well the classic dip and tilt would work well depending on how you wear your hair." Martha reaches for a strand and twines it around her finger, laying it over Kate's shoulder and setting her fingers into a square, stepping back and looking at her through an imagined camera lens.

"I haven't decided yet."

"_Kate?_"

"With your cheekbones I can't see any style being a problem." Martha smiles,"Hmm, but the dress might be an issue."

"_Mother?_" Castle tries again.

"How so?"

"_Woman I plan to marry?_"

"Obviously, if he cups your cheeks with both hands we won't see your faces for photographs. But too planned and it will look staged."

"_If you actually need a groom for this whole thing?_" He shrugs to himself.

"Ugh, no." Kate grimaces, oblivious to Castle's startled reaction and unaware of the hand he lays over his heart in relief when he realizes she wasn't talking to him so much as panicking about staged kisses.

"_No, we wouldn't want that would we._" Castle grumbles, mocking her under his breath. He'd do it louder but he doesn't really want to get in trouble, just get her attention and he tries again, this time calling, "_Kate_."

Ignoring him the two women forge ahead. "I think the best scenario would be for the two of you to act out a few kisses and we can pick which one would work best on the day."

"Mother, Beckett" Castle yells, finally getting their attention, "We got this!"

He steps in, and spins Kate into his arms. With one hand low on her hip, the other settling gently against the long line of her throat, three fingers slipping to trail her hair line without actually parting the strands, his thumb sweeping low on her cheek and just missing her lips. He holds her eyes for a long, slow second before moving in closer.

Her arms rise up and fall to cover the beat of his heart, fingertips curling in his shirt. Her eyes flutter shut when their noses touch and lips skim each other, mouths skating in chaste greeting before Castle moves in and deepens the kiss. He tilts her back the tiniest amount and Kate groans quietly, opening to him, sighing into the kiss and fisting her fingers in his shirt so that he can't pull away.

The lazy, familiar perusal of her mouth leaves Kate pushing up onto her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck and swallowing down his rumble of enjoyment.

They pull apart, breathing hard and Kate laughs, breathless and stained pink with love and happiness. "Told you we got this." Castle grins, twisting himself closer, touching her face.

"Works for me." Kate agrees, tipping herself into his arms, foreheads touching as she brushes her fingers over her still tingling lips. She pushes in close for another kiss, just like that, her blood buzzing with it warmly.

Behind them Martha claps her hands together in excitement and lets loose a bubbling laugh, "Now we got a show."


	4. Neck

"**Our smiles should touch now."**

* * *

**September**** 2014**

* * *

The wind lifts her hair, sends strands cascading about her face in a frantic rush. The lackadaisical breeze flutters around them and douses her in the beautifully intoxicating aroma of summer and the man she loves, Kate smiles, feeling Castle's lips caress the back of her neck.

She's falling into his chest, holding onto his hands as they curve around her waist to pull her as near as possible and she laughs, loud and still awed, turning her smile towards him so he can kiss the edge of it.

He wraps her up and snuffles into the crook of her neck, warm and contented and pleased with himself as they are slowly surrounded by their family and friends. Congratulating them, the people she loves laugh loudly, happy in the moment, happy for her and they swarm around the couple as they stand center stage, clinging to each other.

He's sweet, all soft touches and whispered breath colliding hotly with her skin, Castle, taking his time and making her forget the waiting congregation even as they close in, threatening to tug them apart and get the ball rolling.

Everyone in their lives seems to be in a hurry to get them married.

Though he planned the whole thing, Castle's content at her side, to linger, to hang on a few more seconds, because they've waited this long and yes, yes she wants to run down the aisle and not so much _drag_ him - he's as eager as she is for it to happen - but to hold his hand and (good god, she feels a bit ridiculous even thinking it) _skip_ to the altar!

She won't, and she'll probably only confess her imaginings of the two of them hand in hand, like carefree teens, when they are coiled around each other in darkness, but right now she's wrapped up in his arms and, oh, she could stand just like this forever.

He's relaxed, kind and gentle with the soothing sweep of his hands and warm when her skin prickles with goosebumps of awareness, he chases the chill right out of her body, her blood, her _life_.

Quietly, among a cacophony of excitement, he keeps her close.

Her head tips back with the brush of his fingers under her chin and he kisses her neck again, her jaw, the side of her cheek, lighting fires and sparking lightning and every other analogy she can think of to describe the way he ignites the love between them, the way he drives the happiness out over her flesh.

Laughing, he's almost vibrating at her back, giddy and ready, so ready for whatever it is that he has planned and she shivers right into his embrace, smiling wide and ignoring the world, even as they touch at the edges of their bubble, threatening not to pop it, but to make it expand, including everyone they know.

It settles over her, laps at her like sizzling water in a hot bath, they're getting married today and he planned the whole thing, and maybe, finally, he's gotten her back for his birthday and now, now they get to have this, an actual beautiful outdoor, simplistic wedding because last time was...

"Stop it." He hums at her ear and she knows he's right, doesn't even question him feeling the change within her as the memories surge. He strokes his fingers over the back of her hands, coils her thumbs protectively within his palms and reminds her with the warmth of his hands that they say so much without saying a word. They speak volumes with each quiet touch.

Kate pushes back and huffs a soft sound of amusement, delight and surrender and happiness all, closing her eyes as he sweeps his mouth over her skin, finding that telltale thudding beat just behind her ear and laving it with his tongue.

She doesn't need to think about why fors and what-ifs when she has _this_.

_Him_.

When she has Castle and all the ways he loves her, the ways they love each other as an antidote to the pain of the past and a guiding light toward their future. When she has this, everything else fades into nothing.

And oh, he's so very _good_ at distracting her, mouth hot and warm and teasing, that for a few seconds she's almost oblivious to the catcalls and - ugh, Lanie Parish that had to be you - _wolf whistle_ that erupts behind them.

Castle spends an ecstatic and oblivious moment paying homage to the way her heartbeat speeds up because of him, just _for_ him, steadfastly ignoring the rambunctious loons they call family. But a throat clears and he groans along the length of her collarbone, hot vibrations of pleasure like needles darting through her system and his fingers tighten at her waist, not wanting to let her go.

He grumbles, something about honeymoons and _do not disturb_ signs and all over again it hits her.

They're getting married.

Today!


	5. Hand

**A/N:** Still spoiler free, just! Aside from that one thing I saw! Hanging by a thread...

* * *

"**Hand in hand, palm to palm and fingers entwined, **

**a kiss with the soul, not the lips, in my mind."**

* * *

**May 2014**

She should feel ridiculous, but she doesn't. Heavy footsteps echo down the long corridor - fluorescent lights overhead making her squint as she passes underneath them - sighing wearily she trudges on, right now she doesn't feel much of anything.

People stop dead as she wanders by, their eyes wide, mouths agape and she barely feels it, barely registers the attention that falls on her with every step she takes. She doesn't stop to catch their gaze and the pity that comes at her in waves from the gawpers and onlookers rolls easily off her skin, like raindrops in a thunderstorm. She doesn't need it.

Her ears ring a little, yet she doesn't hear the whispers that inevitably follow her presence as she rounds each corner, the sharp inhales when new eyes catch sight of her for the first time, startled by what they see. She doesn't even take a breath to reply when someone asks if she's okay. She's alive isn't she?

_Isn't she?_

Kate holds her head high, blinking steadily, chest tight, feet a little sore and she keeps walking through the winding maze of hospital corridors, ignoring her dress when it snags on chairs or catches in the backswing of a closing door. She doesn't even pause to wipe the hair from her eyes when it falls pitifully across her face, nor the sweat that beads on her brow.

What's the point? She's already a complete mess.

_The dishevelled bride._

That's what she heard one of the nurses call her, whispering to her colleague that it was creepy the way she wandered the halls without changing out of her dress, the way she shuffled aimlessly from room to room. Like a ghost.

She's not wrong, the unknown nurse, but Kate doesn't care, can't bring herself to glare or admonish the heartless woman, and her words are the last that penetrated the fog that has swallowed Kate up since.

It's quieter like this, her attention focused solely on finding her way back to Castle's side, to pressing her forehead to his. To holding his hand. To feeling like she can finally breathe.

She will take it off, of course, the dress that's ragged, torn and stained with blood, she's not insane, but so far she hasn't found the time, hasn't found the energy necessary to worry about herself and how she looks.

The only things that register are a bone weary tiredness, like an iron curtain that descends from head to toe, weight falling heavier on her shaken form with every determined step, and a need to be at the side of the man she loves.

There is a small sheltered place within her that craves nothing more than the sight of him, his smell and touch, his voice soft in her ears. Nothing else matters.

She walks on, an ever present rustle announcing her approach. More than likely the rumpled silk and taffeta, gauze and beading will slide down her body in frustration when the width of the skirt keeps her from moving fast enough through the narrow halls or close enough to the bedsides of the people she watches over. When the time comes she'll swap it out for scrubs or borrowed items.

Her wedding dress, suddenly and starkly an inconvenience.

It's ruined. Great chunks torn from the skirt, sleeves ripped and patterned with dust and rubble, marring the white and silver. Then there's the blood, under her nails and smattered across her skin, dashed across the skirt in a macabre splash of vivid color. Ruined.

Her eyes drop as she stumbles on, her hand flitting to her hair and she tugs a strand back behind her ear as she strides faster, the twisted sections that had been pulled back from her face now hanging in limp and pathetic waves that sweep her shoulders.

The veil is gone.

It belonged to her mom, a last minute surprise from her dad and the familiar scent of Johanna's perfume had risen from the box when Kate opened it. Tears spring into her eyes as she recalls the shake to her fingers, moving in awe as they trip trailed the delicate, paper-thin lace. And now it's gone, lost to the wind or carnage, she can't be sure, and she immediately chastises herself for thinking of something so trivial at a time like this.

There is a chain at her neck holding one ring and another wrapped snug on her finger and so far none of the people she loves are dead. She's _lucky_.

She's alive, they're all alive. She's lucky!

Battered, bruised and god, so tired, counting her blessings, she carries on.

The loss of a veil should be nothing in comparison, and at the next turn she leans heavily against the wall, pulling off the white heels that pinch her toes. Running her thumb over the pearlescent detailing, Kate tosses the shoes aside and ignores the memories that surge when she thinks back to the day she bought them, imagining Castle's hands running down her legs to pull them from her feet on their wedding night.

Too late now, their ceremony long since passed and she touches her hair again, forgetting. The veil's absence weighs heavily, more than it should, a bereavement all its own that presses at the _little girl_ part of her heart. She wanted to keep it, treasure it, maybe one day pass it on to her own daughter and now it's gone.

Somehow that's the thing that gets to her the most. That small realization reminding her that's it not trivial, not at all. It's another part of her day stolen away.

Vision blurry she steps into the elevator and lays her head back against the cool metal as it climbs, the back of her throat burning with the sob she refuses to release. She should be married by now, she should be laughing and joking and getting steadily drunk with his hand in hers and everything perfect.

_It's too much!_

She should be Mrs.

She should be basking in the congratulations of everyone that knows them, in the _I told you so's_ and _we knew it's_ of all the people who wholeheartedly believe they saw it coming before she did.

_She can't breathe._

Kate tugs at her neckline, feels like it's choking her, her heart thundering in its desperation for freedom. Her hands shake as they lift, pressing cold fingers against her suddenly fevered skin as she pulls the neck away from her chest and breathes deep.

_She should be so many things, but she's not!_

It's too tight, her chest barely moving, but she does it again, and again and again until it works. Soft air over her quivering tongue getting her through it, quietly.

She stays calm. Fights the battle from within.

She doesn't claw at her own skin or tear at the seams. Instead Kate smoothes the material flat over her breasts and across her stomach, making herself feel the way it sits over her body, giving herself the time she needs to find balance again.

The doors open once more and she steps out, veiless, shoeless, _the dishevelled bride_, her breathing under control and her heartbeat almost regular and absolutely every ounce of self control she has mustered through the darkened halls falling away instantly at the sight of _him_.

At the end of the long corridor Castle stands, his body angled away from her, a hand running down his face as he breathes hard. Darkness has washed over him, she can see that, her feet dragging her from the confines of the cramped elevator, a magnetized pull guiding her to his side.

Her voice breaks around the lifeline of his name. "Castle" a resonating echo that bounds down the hall, taking her to him faster than her exhausted body will allow.

He turns toward her slowly, body stiff and almost dazed in his appearance, unbelieving. It's only been a few hours that they've been apart but it feels like a _lifetime_.

It takes Castle a few seconds to accept she's real and then the cloud lifts, visible pain dying away at the sight of her and his smile is weak but instant, tender and wide, his obvious sigh of relief quickening her pace.

Kate's heart splinters in beat - loud, obnoxious - regulating the closer they get and Castle closes his eyes, touches a hand to his chest - covering his own heart in unspoken understanding - as he reaches for her. His outstretched fingers the only home she needs.

She stumbles into him and he collides with her and for a long moment in which only they exist they wrap themselves up in each other, arms so tight they might never let go.

Heavy breath crushes their chests together and without knowing she's even been lifted, Castle sets her back on her feet and strokes over her face, claiming her hand immediately, desperate for the contact.

Kate takes it with pleasure, her own desire to be near him only increasing now that she has him in her arms and she squeezes his hand, thick and strong digits stretching the gaps between her own as their fingers intertwine, warmth, like love, suffusing her skin.

One soft tug is all it takes to bring her back to his side.

He holds her in silence for a few seconds longer, taking her breath away as her eyes devour him, comforting herself that he's okay.

His shirt collar is open, tie undone and hanging limply around his neck. He's a little rough around the edges, the groom just as rumpled and drained as the bride, and they should be married by now. He should be cracking jokes and teasing her and breathing dirty, delightful promises into the shell of her ear as they twirl.

They should be sharing their first dance right _now_.

It's all too much and Kate says the only thing she can think of to make it better.

"They're all okay." She breathes in awe, brushing her lips over his knuckles as he lifts his hand to her face, sighing as the angles shift and the tilted world doesn't right itself or become perfect in his presence, it just keeps on spinning, spinning for everyone they love.

It's miraculous.

"How?" He asks, and her fingers curl within his, chest easing as she inhales deeply and lets him draw her into his embrace. His skin is warm and familiar, his hand in hers a tether that keeps her where she should be, where she's supposed to be. By his side. Alive.

She cannot bring herself to let go of his hand.

"I don't know." Kate answers honestly, not sure she cares beyond the fact that they are _all okay_ and her focus becomes the warmth of his fingers between her own, the soft sigh of their palms as they slide together.

Their knotted digits twist together like vines, and he holds her close, his gentle caress telling her he wants to ask how she is and a million other questions that she doesn't have the energy for. Her relief is palpable when he doesn't, glad he takes the hint in the press of her fingers and the slow blink when his eyes drift over her face.

Instead, concerned, Castle tugs her down with him, both of them collapsing wearily into the plastic chairs of yet another hospital waiting room. Her eyes start to close and he startles her when he speaks.

"We will do this again, you know that, right?" Castle squeezes her fingers, waiting until she lifts her head to look at him, truth vivid in his tone and shining eyes, "I will marry you."

Her focus drops to their fingers, to the way he holds her hand, the way he gifts her with strength in the simplest touch and she smiles, her head dropping to rest on his shoulder.

"Kate? Tell me you know that?"

She finds peace in watching the slow stroke of his thumb across her wrist, likes the way their skin feels pressed together, the way they hands fit like puzzle pieces. She's silently in love with the way their palms come together, the way they _kiss_.

There's no doubt in her mind, it's not even a question, and her reply comes, loud in its significance, yet simple, quiet and honest. The words she has wanted to say all day.

"I do, Castle."

She squeezes his fingers.

"I do."


	6. Cheek

**A/N:** If I don't cave ...

* * *

"_**A kiss always means something."**_

* * *

**September 2014 **

The men leave, her son calling out til the last possible second, and Martha finds his bride smiling to herself softly, a warm flush coloring her cheeks as she stands waiting, content to be at the mercy of her _almost_ mother-in-law.

Turning the young woman away from her, Martha's eyes crinkle as she fiddles with Kate's hair, her smile warm and familiar, love and indulgence shining from her almost as brightly as it does from her son.

Her fingers move speedily as she watches Katherine press a hand to her chest, breathing as though she feels that butterfly flutter start up again in her stomach.

Awe? Happiness? Delight? Maybe all three and she shakes her head with a smile at the pair of them, just as bad as each other.

Her son is getting married today and that is amazing, wonderful, about time! And everything a bride should feel is written over the face of the woman he loves, the woman she has come to think of as her daughter.

As she weaves the silken strands of hair behind the detective's head, Martha refuses to think of it as Katherine becoming a part of their family because they've welcomed her in from the moment they met, today is just the long journey's fruition and of course there have been bumps along the way, but _today_ should be the start of a smoother path for the pair of them. God knows they deserve it.

Alexis adds earrings to the bride's ears, as they work around her together, fingers gentle as they work the metal through her lobes and she lifts a strand of Kate's hair, handing it off to Martha to twist up with the rest, smiling widely when she catches the detective's eye.

She's happy for her father, Martha has no doubt about it, happy for the both of them, and they hold the gaze they share for a while, her granddaughter and the woman that has captured her son's heart and, with her fingers working away behind them, Martha can't help but wonder if this is a glimpse at a moment the two of them will share one day in the not so distant future.

Another wedding, another time. Another daughter with a borrowed mother.

She swallows thickly, a shimmer of tears behind her eyes and Martha clears her throat, watching as Alexis jumps, nods and disappears quickly. She feels Katherine stutter in confusion, her body tensing and she smiles as she imagines the young woman's eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Her fingers are warm as they land on the bride's exposed shoulders, Martha's voice picking up with a croak of emotion as she smoothes her hands down Katherine's arms and turns her so they face each other, "Do you remember the very first poker game my son invited you to attend, with Javier and Kevin and your dear Captain Montgomery?"

Kate nods, stilling instantly when Martha clicks and tuts in annoyance, trapping a laugh that spills free and swearing not to move again. Her hair is a delicate stage and Martha's face transforms with finite skill born of her craft as she hammers home her insistence that the bride remain a statue.

"I remember."

"I knew then." Martha states adamantly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and catching her eyes so Katherine can see the truth and understand that what she's saying isn't being said in the moment for the sake of it. That she believes the words she speaks with her whole heart.

Katherine becomes quiet, instantly serious as she asks, "Knew what?"

"That _you_ were the girl for _my_ boy."

Her eyes fly up and wide in surprise and Martha feels the words catch in her throat as she speaks them, lacing every one with honest love, and her fingers drop from Katherine's hair to touch at her cheek.

She swallows hard, stoic as ever, visibly biting back the flood of emotion and Martha can see clearly in the detective's eyes that she wonders how on earth _anyone_ could have known barely a month into their partnership that they would end up together.

Ah, the follies - and self imposed blindness - of youth! If she could travel back in time and knock their heads together, she would.

"I love my son," she says quietly, a surge of pride undeniable as it bombardes her heart, "he's a wonderful man, but god knows he can be trying." Martha smiles wistfully, remembering the dark haired little boy who would run riot for attention, only to curl up quiet and shy in her lap. The adolescent, lonely and desperate for companionship, the too eager to please teenager. "He may have been a self-centered jackass when you met him -"

Kate laughs, thumbs her own eyes to drag away tears as she nods, understanding completely, "I've called him that."

"Still is on occasion." Martha shrugs, not oblivious to her own human failings as a parent, maybe ignoring them a little more than she should, but this is about her son. "But he has a big heart," She smiles proudly, touching the cheek of the woman who claimed it. "A _generous_ heart." Kate nods again, emphatically. "And darling, he loves _you_ with _all_ of it!"

* * *

She chokes a sobbing laugh at his mother's words and fights to blow a shallow breath through her lips, her hands quivering as they come up to lay over Martha's. "I couldn't stand him then." She confesses guiltily.

"Who could?" Martha teases and Kate laughs again, the two of them sharing in the love they have for Castle, for the man he was then, the man he is now.

All of him, theirs.

And again, his family - and hers - fill her up with joy.

* * *

"Hey!"

Both women turn at the admonishing call of his daughter's voice, the mock stern grimace falling away easily as she finds her way back to their sides.

Eavesdropping.

There is no doubt here, from any of them, they share a common bond in their love for the crazy man Kate is about to marry. No worry. Nothing but tender reflection and remembrance.

It's only when Martha calls attention to it that Kate even notices Alexis has her hands behind her back and Martha turns the bride towards her granddaughter, pushing them together.

"We have something for you, Katherine." Martha swallows hard, her palm open and inviting Alexis closer. She watches as her granddaughter breathes out slowly and pulls her hands from behind her back smiling, hopeful, watching for Kate's reaction.

The lost veil flutters lightly in the breeze and the silence between them is broken by a gasp. Katherine's eyes well with tears, her fingers shaking as they reach, only to withdraw suddenly as if afraid to touch the dancing lace. As though she cannot bring herself to believe it's real.

"How?" Is all she can say, emotion choking the word, keeping it tight and still disbelieving.

"Dumb luck?" Martha shrugs, claiming Kate's fingers, soothing and empathetic as she pulls the girl with her. "Act of God?" She smiles, lays the detective's shaking hand over the flutter of her mother's veil, proving to her it's real. "Maybe a little of the _magic_ you share with my son rubbing off on the rest of us." She winks, nodding towards her granddaughter.

She watches the revelation dawn on the detective's face. Shock giving way to elation.

"I can't believe you found it." Kate croaks, ignoring the offered item and instead pulling Alexis into her arms, leaving Martha to rescue the veil and smile as she watches.

"Thank you." She squeezes hard and breathes the words again clutching tight as Alexis blushes. When Kate lets her go reluctantly she turns and reaches for Martha, her surprise and happiness evident in her glowing skin and happy smile. "You too, Martha. Thank you."

"Would it be remiss if I didn't say _always_?" She teases, taking the tight squeeze of the detective's arms around her with a grunt of surprise - she certainly is a strong one. And while she has the young woman in her arms Martha holds her tight and kisses her cheek, gifting her with not only her mother's veil but a mother's love also.

"Something old." She smiles, pushing Katherine away, fixing the veil to her drawn up hair, "It's a little shorter than it was originally and I don't really think you could call it white anymore -"

"It's perfect." Kate interrupts.

"Yes, I do believe given the current ensemble," she casts her eyes downwards to the swathe of dark denim and leather heels, "it does fit rather well. Adds a certain dramatic flare."

"We don't have much time." Alexis hurries her on, tapping her watch.

"Ah, yes time is of the essence." She squeezes Katherine's hand again and sighs, "Well as all good actresses must, it's time for a little improvisation." Martha grins, in her element.

Grabbing Alexis by the shoulders she shoves her in front of the startled bride, "Something new, congratulations my dear, it's a girl."

"Grams!" The girl groans and the bride blushes and Martha watches her cast a protective glance over her soon to be stepdaughter, something in the woman's tender gaze and loving touch telling Martha it won't be long before she has another beautiful grandchild to spoil.

She ignores them both, tapping at Katherine's ears with the tips of her fingers, "Borrowed." She announces, "They were my mother's"

"Oh, Martha - I -"

"No time for that, you're family." Martha smiles as the bride blushes and she reaches into her pocket for the last item, pulling it free. "And finally, something blue."

* * *

Martha produces it with a flourish not dissimilar to that of a magician, a playing card, blue-backed and familiar, not from Castle's collection but Kate's own, a precinct deck he insisted on buying for her very early on in their partnership. Back when Kate would rather have kicked him than kissed him.

She turns it over slowly in her hand and chokes on another laugh as she sees the face, The Queen of Hearts, his mother ever the dramatic actress feigning indifference at her reaction, but clapping her hands together in delight when Kate shakes her head and covers her mouth to stifle the giggle.

She traces the card for a moment before slipping it into her pocket, turning towards Martha, want of knowledge bubbling under her skin.

"How did you know?" She asks, "When we played poker that very first time? How did you know?"

Martha winks, smiling wide and leaning in to kiss her cheek, her words warm against her skin, "How else, my dear. He let you _win!_"


	7. Small

"_**Maybe we should kiss a little."**_

* * *

**June 2016**

Kate wakes to the soft rustle of bedclothes and the padding of large, undainty feet on the floor. Her eyelids flutter but she stays perfectly still, her back to the man and emanation of sound, hoping she can feign sleep a little while longer.

"Bah!"

She startles, but not enough to appear awake though she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep the smile in check. Someone's awake early and like her - she thinks proudly - eager to start the day.

"Shhhhh."

She grins further into the pillows, her expression hidden by the fact she pretty much fell asleep on her face last night, passing out almost instantly the moment she was done with him.

"BAH!"

"Shhh." Kate can hear the smile in Castle's voice as he hushes their son. The image of his strong arms and large hands cradling the boy to his chest so clear in her mind that she doesn't even have to open her eyes to see. But god, does she want to.

Somehow Kate finds it in herself to resist, just a little longer, to let whatever is about to occur play out. She's spent years learning that timing is everything and the best things in the world are worth waiting for. Especially when it comes to Castle.

"Baaaha!"

"Shhh. Mommy's sleeping. Now is not the time to start entering rooms like your grandmother."

She doesn't laugh but she wants to. Her fingers clench underneath her head, holding on tight and waiting. The feeling in her chest this fiercely protective and unbelievably proud thing that seems so animalistic as it roams around and circles her heart.

Pride in what they have, what they are together. Her family.

The little boy does something that clearly delights him because he lets out a squeal - an angelic siren call of mischief - just as Castle yelps, "Ow! God, those Beckett genes kick in early."

He must have his little fists tight around Castle's ears again, he's been fascinated with them, standing on his father's strong thighs and bouncing, grabbing for the nearest source of stability.

Usually she soothes his pouting face with her own soft caress, telling their little boy to _be nice to daddy_, whispering in his ear that she will be too, _later_.

She hears her husband yelp again, stifling laughter with a slow inhale and he shushes both himself and the baby, muttering under his breath all the while and Kate can hear their son mimicking him. Chattering away in a steady stream of nonsense and she won't call it mocking, not yet, he's too little and cute and able to get away with it, but another wave of pride washes through her and every ounce of her strength is focused on staying deadly still and _waiting_.

Kate feels the bed dip when they settle at her back, Castle's legs skimming her thighs when he scooches up and tries to balance their wriggly kid and himself without waking her.

Kate knows he's gonna find it hard, since the boy started crawling he's a complete worm. Arms and legs and that lithe little torso instantly made of water as he slips through your grasp to pool on the floor and make a baby break for it.

Castle jostles her, shoves, pokes and huffs enough that she wonders if he already knows she's awake, or if he just wants her that way, but Kate remains frozen, her chest a steady and rhythmic rise and fall that gives away nothing.

She feels the bed bounce and hears an ooff of sound escape Castle's chest.

"Yeah, you jump up and down buddy, but if you want a little sister let's not jump on _that_ again, okay?"

"Bah!"

"Good boy." He chuckles and she's so in love with the way he talks to their child. No baby blah blah or gobbledygook, just his soft voice and an adult ramble. He carries on a conversation as if any second their son will pipe up and tell him the most amazing things. She can't wait until he does.

"Mommy's tired, huh?" She hears Castle comment, his words jerky as the boy leaps again. Her husband whispers to the boy quietly and the lowering of his tone slowly brings the baby's leaping to a stop, a conspiracy forming at her back.

"It's a shame Mommy's asleep because if she _was_ awake we could show her what we've been working on."

"Abah."

"Exactly, but I'll let you in on a little secret, mommy's faking, you can tell because her cheeks are lifting, look."

Kate can't help but smile wide, grinning as she slowly falls onto her back, eyes still closed.

"Maaumu."

"Mmhmmm, exactly and that's where you should kiss her, right on the curve of her cheek, you know why?"

"Umamama."

"Because that is the sweetest part, the softest part of mommy's smile." Castle's fingers brush through her hair and she rolls as close as she can get, her eyes opening slowly to look up at her boys. "That's where we should kiss to let mommy know we love _her_ the _most_."

Kate smiles and pushes her hair back from her face, stroking a hand up Castle's arm to brush her thumb across the sock-less foot of her little boy. Tiny fat toes squidgy under her fingertips.

"Blow mommy a kiss." Castle whispers proudly, dropping his eyes to his wife with a smile, and the little boy lifts his hand to his face as Kate inhales in surprise, wondering _when_ he learnt to blow kisses. She catches Castle's eye but he only nods her back towards their son, smiling in anticipation as the little guy captures their attention.

He makes a smacking, sucking sound against the palm covering his mouth and "Mmmmmaaaaaaaaahhhs" loudly, grinning as his chubby little hand dances away from his face and he looks to his father.

"Good job, buddy."

Kate smiles widely, sitting up and taking the little boy from his father's hands and she laughs, delighted when he reaches for her face, lips popping apart like a fish as he gets closer.

He giggles every time she laughs, and he does it again, delighting in the happy sounds that emanate from his mother when his toothless grin collides with her skin.

She catches at his little body, squishes her fingers into his sides so he squirms, and pulls him down with her onto the bed, letting herself fall backwards as she holds the wiggling infant above her head.

He comes for her again, gummy and aiming not quite proper kisses at her face, wet and slobbery when she nuzzles into his neck, and she can't help but laugh louder and tease, "You kiss just like daddy."

"Not exactly like daddy." Castle growls and she shivers, goosebumps racing over her flesh as he tips into her and the three of them tumble lower in the bed. Castle claims her lips, diving in quickly, hotly and feeding from her mouth with a delicious laziness, just to prove a point.

Right up until their son thumps him on the head and squeals in delight as they pop apart laughing at his antics.


	8. Long

_"**I vow to kiss away your troubles."**_

* * *

**September 2014**

"_You may now kiss the -"_

She doesn't hear the rest. Doesn't need the words or the affirmation or the command from a stranger that she can kiss Castle. The world becomes this great big drowned-out and silenced thing that holds no allure to her in the sight of her husband.

_Husband._

Her heart shatters or explodes and heat radiates out through her limbs, fireworks under her skin at the thought of it, married to Castle. He's her husband. It's surreal, it's mind blowing and amazing.

It's true, at last!

The word _bride_ probably gets spoken, there may be catcalls and cheers and an entire universe's worth of applause as the people that love them most witness them come together as man and wife. They might even breathe a collective sigh of relief. A rumble of _thank god, finally_ may whip its way around their small congregation, tears, sobs and laughter lighting the way, but she doesn't hear any of it.

Her eyes are full of him and her ears are thundering with the beat of her heart, the quiet intensity of each thud and shudder seems to call his name, call him to her.

At the word _You_ Castle's coming for her, closing the half-step distance between them, hands raised and arms wide, _you, just you_ written over his face and in his smile, in the warm scrunch of happiness that mostly hides the soft, joyful blue of his eyes in the summer sun.

Her breath catches, her _husband_, swooping in to kiss her and _may now_ is muffled by the heat and soft caress of his fingers on her face as he cradles her jaw, angles her chin and brushes the edge of his nose against hers.

A mutual sigh of _now, yes please, now_, flows between them as his lips hover above hers and in the split second before the next word is spoken their eyes lock. Tight and unbreakable and forever.

_Always._

They don't need to be told what comes next, it's second nature, it's simple and easy. It's fate.

_Kiss_ becomes an existence.

In that lone four lettered, single syllabled word a life together is created, owned and acknowledged, expressed, desired and cherished. They've been through so much and yet here they are, curled around each other, savoring each other, still at war in the battle that rages between their clashing lips, but in sync, always in sync.

A future takes root, in that one meager word, first anniversaries and fiftieths, Christmases and christenings, birthdays and births and holding hands in the park. Chasing down suspects and toddlers and crazy pets that haven't even been born yet and all of it stems from that one simple word.

_Kiss_.

And they do.

Suddenly, all knowing and all consuming, the endless possibilities unwind in the touching of their lips, hearts and minds. Two souls coming together in celebration and damn him, he's made her sappy. He's made her believe in magic and forever and the possibility of so many things she cannot put them into words.

Her husband, claiming her lips and her heart and _her_ forever with every single touch and each step they have taken together.

_Kiss._

Her lips part on the _K_ and she inhales him, allows Castle to flood her senses, float through her bloodstream and send devilish delight bursting out into her body as the familiar taste and smell of him pours inside and fills her up.

Their tongues meet on the _I._ A simple greeting, a moment in time and he touches at all aspects of her life, her past, present and future, every battle lost and triumph earned, every fire they put out and every dramatic event they started, everything he missed before they met and all the things she would never been without him coming to life.

Everything he helped her become exists in that kiss.

Her fingers tighten as they tumble through the first _S_. Silence and slumber and simplicity in the way he smooths over her skin and makes her feel like she's come home. Finally. Forever. And it's familiar and lovely and _him_.

Castle.

She gives up his name to the silence of their kiss, another vow she swears, another promise she will never break.

Castle.

Her safe place, her port in the storm, her anchor, her partner, her knight in shining armour and her harshest critic. The man who knows her better than any other, the ear into which her secrets are whispered and the place she lays her heart and body to rest at the end of every day.

_Her_ Castle. _Her_ husband.

They cling and breathe as one, soft sighs into her mouth like a lifeline, the second _S_ surrounds them both and she rises in his embrace to give every ounce of it back. Her arms around his neck and holding tight, _kiss_ is what they do.

Kiss, kiss. Kiss and kiss again.

Today she may be the bride who _should_ be kissed, sweet and shy and blushing in the innocence of that first meeting of lips, but right now - and everyday here after - she's also his _wife_, fierce, determined.

She's his wife and his shield, the soft voice of conscience and logic that he will hear echo in the deepest reaches of his mind from here on and ever after. She kisses him as his bride and his wife and under all of that as the woman he first knew.

She kisses him and reminds him, yes, under everything, she's still Kate Beckett, challenging, frustrating.

Maddening.

Teasing and cheeky, lustful and giddy.

She doesn't let him forget it.

In the sweep of her tongue and the way she hooks her foot behind his calf to bring him in tight against her. She may well be Kate Castle - and how odd that sounds and how right and lovely - but she's still Kate Beckett and he's still the writer - _her_ writer - the one who wormed his way inside her heart, only to set up camp and bring her to life.

Married or engaged, they are who they always were, and together they become so much more.

She grips him tighter and moans deeply, hoping he feels exactly what he does to her - heat and lightning, thunder and electricity, all - nipping at his mouth and the taste of morning sunlight on their lips.

_Husband_.

The flower in his lapel is crushed under her near savage, fevered fingers, dragging him closer as she clings and climbs and curls herself into him, the sweet scent is intoxicating as it breaks around them and her lashes flutter in the breeze.

Still they kiss.

They kiss knowing everyday will start and end this way, in each others arms. They kiss to show the world they belong to each other and his hand slips from her face, curves to her neck and pulls her closer, the heated span of his palm on her back aligning them perfectly.

Castle sighs her name into her mouth, a tender, awed _Kate_ so sweet that her heart clenches at the sound. Tracing her lips with his own as if memorizing her in the moment, they gift each other with the knowledge that they will never forget this kiss, not one single second of it, not ever.

They kiss, for themselves and the commitment they have made, for the words that bubbled up inside them and spilled out, drowning out the vows they had prepared as the things they _wanted_ to say suddenly paled in comparison to the things they just _had_ to express.

They kiss for the pleas and promises and the laughter, for the joy she can feel burning under the skin, for the need to tell him how much she loves him, how wonderfully and perfectly and _annoyingly for the better_ he has changed her life.

Kate smooths her fingertips over his face and presses her promises into the warmth of his skin and she hears the words Castle spoke just for her on gentle loop in her head.

And still they kiss, hearts frantic and pounding and screaming at each other in the silence. _I love you, just you. No one but you._

And still they kiss.

Everything anyone needs to know about them was spoken aloud, in his deep and thoughtful tone, in his quips and laughter and in the seriousness of the way he loves her.

Forever.

Their story was written and rewritten and magnified in the shy quake of her own voice as she lifted it loud enough for everyone to hear, in the way she smiled and swallowed around words so full of truth that they ached as she set them free.

And now in celebration the essence of who they are flows freely and unknowable to any other soul, between them as they kiss, kiss and kiss again, unburdened by hardship and what went before.

All that matters is the here and now.

This day.

This kiss.

This moment between them.

And still it goes on. On and on until the need for air tugs her eyes open and she's looking at him, her eyes blurred with tears.

Her husband, so beautiful.

On and on and it's hot and slow and _long_ and they don't want to pull apart - panting - hands holding tight and bodies wrapped up together, but they do, foreheads dropping to meet as they sigh past lips that glisten just as brightly as their eyes.

They're married. And she laughs, out of nowhere, utter delight catching her by surprise, catching _him_ by surprise with the wideness of her smile, the lightness in her body as she holds on tight, her fingers touching his face until he laughs with her and it all becomes real.

No longer a fairy tale or a dream, or a near miss, but them. Just them.

Married - their lips meet again, making a million silent vows each time they touch - kissing for the longest time in the summer sun.


	9. Sweet

"**It's sweet the way you kiss me, before our lips even touch."**

* * *

**Late March 2015**

The darkness of the room had been all consuming, the absence of light thorough and absolute and she sighed contentedly, letting the blackness wash over her and push away the remains of her headache.

It had hit her hard and fast, the last thirty-six hours unforgiving, stressful and nothing at all out of the ordinary, yet she was tired, more so than she would call _normal_ for her own body, weary aching limbs finally giving out and forcing her to bed.

Now, as she lifted herself up among the pillows, the room swam with a fresh wave of nausea that Kate knew had _nothing_ to do with dull throb at the back of her skull.

Licking her lips she reached for some water only to find the glass empty and the mere idea of a trip to the bathroom for a refill seemed like too much effort to even contemplate let alone attempt. She knew every heavy footfall would resound too loudly, waves of pain swelling up with each step, crashing into her temples as the sound of her own feet reverberated around her brain.

Nope.

Slipping back into the softness of her bedding-made cocoon, Kate rolled onto her side and inhaled deeply letting the familiar scent soothe her as she tried desperately to ignore the other reason she was avoiding a trip to the bathroom.

Third drawer down on the left.

The small white and pink box she was determined not to think about kept hijacking her thought process and spinning it off on a tangent. It could change their entire life, the one they were building together and Castle was out of town for another two days, his birthday was in three and if she opened the box and -

No.

No, she thought he should be here for this next part. If her suspicion was correct - and a terrified part of her really hoped it was - she wanted him by her side. They should take the test together.

Rolling further across the bed the sound of the door opening startled her and Kate's eyes shot to the person allowing light to intrude on her inner sanctum, her neck snapping up with speed that was immediately protested by her head, eyes and stomach. Black dots swam in her vision and she clapped a hand over her mouth trying not to gag.

She absolutely abhorred being ill, hated it and swore vile vengeance, muttering curses under her breath. She slid back down slowly, waiting for the rollercoaster swirl that was battering her stomach to die off.

"Kate?"

"Mmmm?" She didn't need to lift the hand that had settled over her eyes to know that his daughter was approaching, the quiet padding of her sock clad feet was as familiar to Kate as the scent of Castle that wafted from the pillows. It was the regular background noise of family living that she had become accustomed to.

"Dad called." Alexis murmured quietly, "Wanted me to check in. Said you didn't pick up?"

Kate groped blindly and brought the phone to her face, thumbed the screen and found it unresponsive. "I turned it off." She groaned letting it slip from her hand and thud quietly on the bed beside her.

"He said he'd call again at the next hotel."

Her voice still soft, it came to Kate louder than before and opening her eyes again, slowly, she found Alexis hovering at the side of the bed, pale evening light creeping in from the office and casting her in a backlit glow. Her arms hung at her sides, the rays of light fracturing at her wrist. They splintered off in all directions making Kate aware of the glass she held in her hand and the almost tentative way she stood.

"How are you feeling?" Alexis asked quietly.

"Ughhhh." Kate slapped a hand on the bed and groaned again, but smiled when Alexis laughed and took her invitation, coming closer and setting the water on the bedside table.

"That bad?"

"Somewhere between in a cave and on a boat." The splayed fingers over her eyes parted and Kate sighed slowly, squinting one eye and scrunching her face at his daughter. "It's dark and I might throw up." She elaborated when the blue eyes that met her own were framed by raised and inquisitive eyebrows.

"Are you contagious?" Alexis leaned back, grinning when Kate huffed at the implication.

"I very much hope not." One hand fell to her stomach, unbidden, as if protecting the possibility that could dwell there, and she hid the action quickly, smoothing down the sheet in front of her.

Alexis watched the movement with sly eyes, fingers toying in her own lap as she observed and tilted her head to one side. "Dad sent me in here with kisses." She mumbled suddenly, fingers still working at her cuticles, flicking the skin almost nervously.

"What?" Kate raised herself up narrowed her eyes with disbelief, "He sent y- what?"

"Wanted me to pass them along -" she raised a hand, almost in defense " - verbally _not_ physically." Though her cheeks flushed, Alexis smiled, dropping her head to shield her face when Kate laughed.

It felt good, but she groaned immediately when the sound echoed too loudly, palming the side of her head to keep it in one piece. "That's ..." She pursed her lips and looked for the right word. "Sweet?" She grinned, finding it less painful than laughing.

They sat in the silence that followed for a minute or two before Alexis rose to her feet. She said goodnight quietly and Kate reached for her hand, stilling her progress from the room with a gentle squeeze of her fingers.

"Thank you." Kate held the girls eyes and squeezed again, "For the water and the kisses." She didn't mean to roll her eyes but they both laughed when she did, "And for checking on me. It is - it is sweet."

She let the girl go, holding on to the small moment between them and sinking back down into the pillows. Contentment rolled over her again, pushing aside the queasy wave and Kate listened to Alexis pad from the room just as quietly as she had entered.

Dropping a hand to her stomach again she lay back and thought of all the maybes and hows of telling Castle her suspicion. She pictured his face and wondered if he'd smile, or tear up, if he would believe her straight away or if she'd have to repeat the words until they sunk in. Fingers drumming her skin as they moved slowly, Kate rolled onto her side and jumped when she found his daughter still in the doorway watching her.

"Kate?" Her voice was quiet, barely a whisper as she slipped through the door with a knowing smile.

"Mmm?"

"You should tell him on his birthday, he'd love that."


	10. Goodnight

"**Always kiss me goodnight."**

* * *

**October 2012**

He thinks she's reluctant to leave.

Castle watches her with quiet reverence, when he's sure she isn't aware of it, keeps track of the way her eyes drop to her watch and finds more in the soft sigh that follows the words, she'd better be going, than he thinks she ever intended for him to hear.

He hopes she is, reluctant, in a completely selfish and _couldn't you stay a little while longer_ kind of way, he hopes. If she is he might convince her, asks outright just to see her nod and smile and curl into him.

And she does at first, at least the first three times he insinuates she could stay, could sit with him a few more minutes if she wished to, and she does, at first. But eventually she pushes up and away, standing with a resigned look on her face. She holds out her hand for him and when he takes it she braces, ruefully smiling when he tries - and fails - to tug her back down.

"I'm going home, Castle." She insists, a gentleness in her voice that wraps around him, makes it okay and not an issue, just a necessity, so Castle sighs and pouts and lets her have his hand. Kate pulls him up, leans back on heels until he has no choice but to stand or see her topple over and her fingers slide down his arm and push into the heat of his palm.

"Could stay?" He hums, meandering idly, finding their way to his door and she purses her lips, dropping his fingers and waiting expectantly.

He laughs, he can't help it. Can't help the amusement he finds in the habits they've developed, the ones she clearly enjoys.

When she lifts her arm for the coat he offers - her smile warm with delight when he catches on to her unspoken request - his fingers trip over the pulse of her wrist. Touching the warm, bare skin, Castle can see it on her face, as her eyes dart to his, drop to where they touch, she is, she's reluctant to leave.

She ducks her chin and hides the smile as best she can, but Castle sees that too, notes the way the heat touches her cheeks from that one simple stroke of his fingers and he lets it settle, allows it to be enough that even though she's still leaving, she _wants_ to stay.

Their eyes catch again as he stands in place waiting for her with his arms wide open, it shimmers through them both. New. Thrilling. As if he hasn't kissed her and touched her and seen her naked, as if they haven't been _dating_ for months now. As if he hasn't trailed every inch of her body and told her he loves her a million times over. As if she hasn't done exactly the same. Yet she blushes and it's sweet and soft, and there really is no reason for her to be going home.

His heart pounds and if it's always like this then so be it. He smiles and waits - arms extended - holding her coat as she catches the sleeves of her plum colored shirt so they don't ride up her arms before she steps back, allowing herself to be tugged in.

And he does, he does tug, because he likes her close, likes to inhale the soft skin of her cheek as he stands at her back and draws the sides together across her chest.

She huffs as she stumbles, his arms catching her around the waist, pulling her until she's leaning into him, laughing on the tail end of an indulgent sigh, and if it's always like this then yes, so be it. It's magical.

They're not the newest thing, not by a long shot, but they're taking their time and he likes it, doesn't want to rush, doesn't want to miss the moments like this when she's loose and warm in his arms, leaning back against his chest and not wanting to leave.

He likes the slow progress and these silly nothing moments when the simplicity of offering to help her on with her coat makes him feel good, useful, trusted. When she calls him sweet and he knows she means it because her smile catches her by surprise and completely takes over her face, spilling happiness out across her lips. When the soft touch of their hands makes her look at him as though he's the only thing she sees.

Maybe he is. His heart beats frantically at the possibility, she makes him _believe_ it. Maybe he is.

Castle whispers her name into the curve of her neck, a plead around that one bitten out syllable and she shivers, voice shaky when she she replies, a little breathless, "Castle." It's almost a whine, a contingency, a threat and a moan, and no one has ever - will ever - say his name the way she does.

It makes his breath catch and his fingers shake.

Old habits are meeting their fledgling relationship head on and casting fiery shadows over things he once thought of as innocent. Her hands slipping through the proffered sleeves of her coat and brushing against his, easily, something they've done before, but what follows after always - will always - feel new.

Kate turns in his arms and her cheeks are pink specs of reckless anticipation and he knows it now, she's reluctant to leave, she is, but she's going anyway. The moment her coat is in place, and even though her chin is dipped to hide the flush of heat to her face, Kate comes for him, letting the heat build and slowly engulf them.

"You could stay." She blinks up at him, the shake of her head at his request bringing a cascade of hair about her face. His fingers slip through the strands, not playing with them because he knows it annoys her, but simply tucking it back behind her ear and stroking his thumb across her cheek.

"If I stay -" she hums quietly, tipping into his touch, drawn to the scent and soft familiarity of his skin, " - if I stay, I don't get to kiss you goodnight."

It startles a sound right out of him, an electric jolt straight through his system and it gets him like that sometimes, the way she loves him back. The way her simple, honest words rattle right through him, claiming and true. It blanks his mind, nothing but her in the moment, nothing but the way the words resonate, filling his entire being up with confidence; joy.

He wants to tell her it's not true, but he doesn't, instead waits for that sweet, little smile, the one she gives him when she's pleased with herself, when she catches him off guard with the fierceness of her conviction, her feelings, happy to have rendered him mute. Maybe just _happy_.

She sighs and shaking hands claim his face as they linger together at his door. Her eyes are dark, darker still when he pulls her into his chest, immediately rewarded with a gasp of delight. When she says things like that - _I don't get to kiss you goodnight_ \- he needs her close, needs her body touching his everywhere possible.

His hands are low on her waist and hers are still cradling his face, staring into his eyes as the beat of their hearts keeps drawing them back together. She takes her time with it, comes in for him slowly, the press of her forehead first, then the soft brush of her nose along the length of his. She inhales him, lashes fluttering to stay open and the quiver of each one dances over his cheek.

_If she stayed, she could kiss him goodnight until the sun came up and it was time to kiss him good morning._

She methodical, slow, practised and at ease, and the way she kisses him, the way she loves him rises up through his body, casting everything else aside, a volcanic rush of heat and desire firing his blood.

Castle feels his hands curl in the material at her back, sliding high to the nape of her neck, holding her tight. His thumbs sweep the sensitive underside of her jaw until her moan is lost in the brush of her lips and the sweeping glide of her tongue touching his.

_If she stayed, she could kiss him goodnight in the bedroom, in the bathroom tasting like toothpaste, in the shower wet and warm._

Kate's hands drop from his face and her arms come up around his neck and shoulders, she lifts herself into him, swamping his senses with nothing but the taste and sound and smell of her. She clings and steals his vision, casting herself straight into his imagination.

_If she stayed ..._

Castle kisses her back and tastes a future filled with them, them in a myriad of incarnations and possibilities, spread out endlessly and shining bright.

He can see a goodnight kiss across shared pillows in their own home, over breakfast and across tables in countless countries when they escape from the hustle of everyday life, getting lost in each other. Birthday kisses over cake, sweet with frosting and sticky fingers, mouths clashing around laughter.

Each kiss sears an image of crystal clarity in his mind, over surprises and announcements and holding her hand as they walk down the street. It's _maybe babies_ and _let's get a dog_ and running in the park even though she laughs at him and calls him slow. It's knowing she'll do it every time so he'll chase her, catch her, kiss her.

It's every beautiful second they spend together like this, alone and happy. It's the harder times, the heartbreaking ones, interspersed and holding them apart and oh, so much sweeter when they come back together.

It's maybe we'll implode and maybe we'll continue to be amazing, maybe we'll get married and live happily ever after. Maybe I'll balance coffee on the sunshade of a stroller when I meet you for lunch.

It's a goodnight kiss that means _until tomorrow_ and the next day and maybe even _always_ and when she pulls back from it, humming contentedly, Kate brushes her thumb across his lip and smiles. She smiles as if she knows - and she probably does - and doesn't mind at all that his mind has just planned out the next five, ten, twenty years of their lives all around a goodnight kiss.

"That's why I go home," she murmurs, grins when he lifts her a little bit, up onto her toes, earning a squeak, not letting go, "so I can kiss you goodnight."

Her touch is light, his heart full, and it's not the first time he's kissed her goodnight, it's not the first time he's known for sure, it's not even the first time he's allowed himself to believe it will all work out.

And he knows it will.

Because she's it, she's the only person he wants to kiss goodnight, _every_ night.


	11. Shoulder

_**When a man kisses you on the shoulder, he's saying that you're perfect, you are cherished. This is a sensual, loving kiss, that leads to the lips;**_

_**always.**_

* * *

**September 2014**

She sunk deeply into the tub, the water hot enough to blister causing Kate to hiss as she dropped lower and lower, her skin finally reaching the porcelain depths. Her body ached, throbbed, beat at the underside of her skin, and the water lapped entrancingly at muscles she wasn't aware were tense right up until the moment they were kissed by the gentle crests.

Steam rose, smelling faintly of Castle, every swirl rising up to caress her skin so her cheeks flushed and her hair curled around her face. The beaded droplets slinking from her hairline to fall over her skin and trickle low, hiding the path of her tears. She was grateful for a few seconds of solitude.

He was home, had been for a while, but today something within her had given up holding that rigid edge of discipline and the moment she'd sunk into the water the tears had started to fall uncontrollably. She didn't feel as though a dam had burst, or her heart had shattered or anything near that dramatic, the simple, overwhelming sense of unease merely settled over her and demanded that she pay attention to the ache in her own chest.

He was home, but still a little distant. And she tried to be grateful for one and mindful of the other but, taking a deep breath, Kate slipped beneath the surface of the water and allowed the scalding heat to flare over her face and white out her vision. She sunk under and reveled in the loss of thought and sight and sound, enjoyed the way the water stung her eyes. She winced, when it seeped inside her nostrils, but stayed down listening to the exaggerated clang of her feet when she kicked out and sunk lower. The water poured into her ears and air bubbles rising to the surface that escaped for freedom took the world with them. Her own heartbeat became a metronomic tale she got lost in, that changed beat and rhythm, faster and faster the longer she remained below the surface.

When her lungs started to burn Kate propelled herself up and out of the water, eyes scrunched tight against the invading light of the bathroom, gasping but somehow cleansed of the feelings that had been clinging to her all day, all week. He was home, but not truly with her and as though he could hear her thinking of him, something soft brushed her cheek and Kate's eyes burst open to find Castle at the bathtubs edge, staring down.

His eyes were soft with worry, the lines around them more pronounced now and perhaps his smile didn't come as readily as it once had, but he was who he always had been and she couldn't - nor did she want to - stop her fingers from reaching for him when he touched her. Kate cupped Castle's hand where it brushed her face and she blinked her lashes, peering through water smudged reality.

"How long have you been there?" Kate asked, her voice shaky, but she waited for him to answer without breaking their connection

"A while."

"Are you -?"

"Please! Don't ask me if I'm okay." Castle replied quietly, his eyes dropping from hers and skimming down the length of her bare shoulder where it sat above the water. Her mouth opened, but Castle carried on. "And please don't _apologize_ for asking."

He spoke before she could, apologetic in his own hate for her constant apologies, the ridiculously tentative habit they had fallen into _finally_ rubbing them both raw and she laughed, relieved, the sound startling both of them as it burst free of her chest.

She laughed, and held his hand, pressing her lips to his palm, mouth sliding over his skin when she nodded, agreeable to anything when it brought the light to his eyes that way.

Castle smiled down at her, baffled but amused, his thumb sweeping her lips.

The sudden explosion of merriment trailed off as their eyes remained locked and pressing her lips into a thin line, Kate sat back, drew herself from his touch and took the chance, wanting desperately to have him closer. "If I promise not to, will you climb in with me?"

Castle didn't answer, for seconds that bled into painfully drawn out minutes he just stared down at her, as though deaf to her request. Disappointment flooded her chest, and Kate nodded her head again in understanding - perhaps it was too soon after all - only to catch sight of his hands moving, arms raising and his shirt being lifted over his head.

Bare chested, Castle allowed his t-shirt to pool at his feet before ridding himself of the rest of his clothes. Socks, pants and finally underwear all landing in a heap as the intimate act of stripping in front of her played out almost unnoticed, her eyes never deviating from his.

Kate drew her feet up, knees to her chest as though expecting Castle to step into the other end of the tub and sit facing her, her nervous gesture for him to join her landing heavy in his heart. Instead Castle laid a hand to her head, fingers roving over the damp tendrils of hair until he palmed the back of her neck, the softest touch of encouragement urging her to move.

"Slide forward." His voice was the barest whisper, hardly reaching above the sound of the water lapping against the sides as she obeyed, but to Kate it was thunderous. It was a cacophonous roar above the din that had held them both trapped and she clung to it.

Sliding until her toes touched the furthest end, Kate drew her knees once more into her chest and swiveled to face him. She swallowed hard against the lump rising in her throat, couldn't tear her eyes from him, his quiet expression and soulful gaze holding her attention like nothing else, but as he moved her focus shifted to the controlled power of his body.

Kate watched the ripple and curve of the muscles in his arms as he climbed into the bath with her, his chest stuttering at the first wave of heat that met his skin. She observed the soft muscle turn hard across his biceps with each inch nearer, tense and relaxed alike, his shallow breathing and restrained pace pulled the atmosphere in around them, held them in the moment in a way that, for once in what felt like forever, didn't feel constraining or restrictive, it just felt _right_. _Them!_

His toes slid beneath the surface of the water, feet, ankles, shins and knees all sinking deep down with her. She watched the hair on his legs stand erect and then collapse under the pressure, her fingers dancing out to touch the slight raised swell of his knee when it slipped passed her hip. She traced the inner edge where the surgical scar lay, catching at whatever skin swam passed her wet fingers as Castle arranged himself in the water.

Kate found herself between his legs as he settled, dropping to the bottom of the tub with more grace than she'd been able to muster, his feet either side of her own, their toes grazing in ways that spoke of acts only slightly more intimate than sharing a tub.

The hiss of surprise he made when the water sloshed hotly across his stomach made her smile, her head lulling, chin resting on her shoulder to take him in and when his arms opened for her the burn of tears behind her eyes was immediate and unrelenting.

His fingers beckoned, light curls of want as they grasped at the air, calling her closer while she held her breath. Finally he spoke, knowing voice caressing her name in a way that made her eyes close in contentment.

"Come here, Kate."

She felt her lips quiver as she moved, holding it in, holding it back. He was home and the rest could wait, her hands sliding down his thighs, her back to his chest when his arms curled tight around her. It didn't matter if things were a little off kilter, he was home. His hands dwarfed her breasts and he opened his palms to lay one flat over her heart, the other directly beneath, fingers splayed over her belly button and down across her stomach.

His mouth opened at her neck, hot breath dancing against the slick swirl of steam, breathing her in, and when her chest shuddered with the first bitten back sob his thumb skimmed the highest ridge of her cheekbone and drew away the tears.

Curling into him, Kate closed her eyes and waited for the rest of it to be washed away in the hot water and heat of his touch. He kissed her shoulder, pressed his mouth to the tender flesh and lavished it with peppered pecks. He swirled his tongue over her skin and traced the shell of her ear, tilting her jaw to find her lips.

She kissed him back and, for a moment, nothing else mattered.

He was home.


	12. Unexpected

**"_Kiss me, unexpectedly."_**

* * *

**December 2014**

The eyes of the world are on him.

Okay, exaggeration, but it sure as hell feels like it. His skin is warm, his face flushed, and she's standing right _there_ waiting for him.

Is it fate?

It feels like fate.

After everything they've been through, every disaster, every harsh word and bitten back curse, every narrowed eye and lingering look has lead to this moment. This moment when the world watches him kiss her.

His heart is pounding, his stomach clenching and flipping within his abdomen in terrified anticipation. Their first kiss, in front of all these people.

He's nervous.

He's quiet and biting his lip and watching her and not really sure of where to put his hands, or how to stand.

Then she's coming for him, heels tapping, and his world fades to the sight of her lips and the sound of her voice as she barks, "For god's sake Mr. Castle, let's just get this over with."

The Captain grabs his face, holds his cheeks and kisses him, her fingers curling in his hair and lips opening under against his _just enough_ to feel _heat_ and he absolutely freezes exactly where he stands.

There are cheers and wolf whistles and the entire precinct erupts in giddy delighted laughter, applauding them as Victoria (should he call her that now?) pulls back from his mouth with a loud, wet smacking sound as proof.

The captain kissed him. She _kissed_ him.

With her lips, and her mouth and her tiny, tiny, little body pressed hard against his chest in front of everyone he knows, including _her_ husband and _his_ wife.

Tis the season, and maybe good things come in _small_ packages. Small, scary, _bossy_ packages!

But, next year, he's totally _not _bringing mistletoe to the precinct Christmas party.


	13. Forehead

"_**A kiss to the forehead is one of the sweetest things in the world."**_

* * *

**November 2015**

He's mesmerized by her, but her eyes are only on him for a second.

Pale faced, pink cheeked, Kate's hair hangs in limp and messy tendrils at her ears and in the long ponytail that falls down her back. She's sweaty, exhausted, possibly the most beautiful he has ever seen her and her attention is focused entirely on the other side of the room.

Their fingers are entwined and she grips him hard, squeezing, nowhere near as hard as the past few hours, there's nothing of pain in the way she clings to him now, just _anticipation_.

He wants to speak, to ask her how she is and how she feels, to tell her she's amazing and heroic and that he loves her more than ever, though he didn't think that was possible, but nothing comes out no matter how many times he opens his mouth on the off chance his brain might catch up. Maybe a part of him knows he'd break the spell and god, he doesn't want that. He doesn't even want to reclaim her attention, just holding her hand is enough.

Oh, and anyway, there are no words good enough, clear enough, drenched with enough _love_, for what he wishes to convey.

Where their fingers touch he can feel a quiver through her muscles and when he follows the movement he realizes she's shaking him off. Her arms extend, face glowing and Kate sits up to take the small bundled infant from the nurse - their _son_!

_Their_ son - Castle freezes, his fingers hovering in the space she left behind and he stares, raw excitement exploding through with no outlet - they have a son!

He's tiny - perfect - with spindly long limbs that tell Castle he's going to grow up tall. Kate lifts him, raises the baby to her face and his dark, mysterious eyes blink open to focus on his mother just as intently as she's focused on him.

She brings the boy - his boy, god - up to her face whispering a language of love he's never heard before. She tells him something wholly belonging to the two of them, kisses his nose and his cheek, the tiny cupids bow of his puckered lips and then she brings him in close as she leans down until their foreheads touch.

It's the softest sweetest kiss, skin to skin, one he's shared with her himself a million times and words echo, still mumbled quietly, as she breathes in her child, her eyes closing slowly.

Castle draws in a deep, painfully ragged breath. It pushes his lungs out hard against his full-to-bursting heart, expanding his ribs with fascination and awe and no small amount of that soul shattering love. He's crying and he doesn't notice, not until the sight of wife and son blurs and he has to press at his eyelids to regain his vision.

The movement, small and inconspicuous, of his hand to his face as he wipes away tears, catches her attention. Kate's eyes fall to him at her bedside and Castle is stunned by the look on her face.

She's crying too, eyes bright and wet, yet she wears an expression of utter serenity. There's awe in there too, a feeling they clearly share, shock, surprise, exhaustion, but it's all overshadowed by the absolute adoration that emanates from her.

It hits him hard, lightning strikes to the heart of him, unrelenting, the knowledge that he's just witnessed Kate Beckett (Castle) fall head over heels in love with her child - _their _child.

Kate looks down at him and before he's even halfway coping with how beautiful they look - his wife, their son - her face breaks apart with the most radiant smile, and, though tears are streaming down her face, she laughs, positively joyous.

"Oh, baby, we broke daddy."

If he wasn't broken before, he is now. She calls him _daddy_ and lowers his son to her chest, cradling him there in a way that unmans him and then immediatly remakes him - father, husband, partner, protector - shattered apart and brought back together in the most _magical_ way.

"Castle, get up here." She laughs again, winces and sniffs, trying to a comfortable position.

Castle jumps to his feet and eases himself onto the bed at her side. He swipes at her cheek and she shakes, shivers when he wraps an arms around her shoulders and draws her into his chest. He raises his knees and they move their tiny boy to lay across his thighs. They share him, their fingers brushing when they both stroke across the blanketed rise of his chest.

Kate grows steadily heavier in his arms, her fingers slowly ceasing to move and coming to rest over their baby's heart, Castle knows she's fallen asleep. He closes his eyes too for a moment, then blinks them open to kiss her forehead, only to find the baby looking up at him.

He kisses her again as it comes over him in a lovely, warm wave. She's given him another person to stare at.


	14. Chin

"**I'll steal your sorrow with my lips."**

* * *

**October 2014**

"Sit down." She instructs, turning away from him before he even has the chance to meet her eyes. She won't look at him. Refuses.

"Kate?"

She ignores him, moves off as though he hasn't even called her name, "Does it hurt?"

"A bit."

"Honestly, Castle?" She exits the bathroom, lingers watching him as he sits down at the end of the bed, his eyes closing heavily.

His knuckles burn, his back aches, there is a bladed shaft of pain through his knee that will probably only get worse. "Yes, it hurts."

"Dammit!" She slams the door behind her and comes at him with a cold cloth, the wrapped ice pack already in her grasp. "Look up," she demands and even though she's standing between his legs, his face inches below her own, she won't look at him.

Kate presses her fingers to his cheek, tests the bruise, puffs a loud, angry breath when he winces at her touch. He can't stand the silence.

"You know -"

"Don't."

"Don't what?" He knows what, but he needs to push her, needs her to say it outloud so they can talk about it, get beyond it.

"Don't justify it, Castle." She snaps, pressing the ice to his face, trying to reduce the rapid swelling.

"He ruined -"

"I don't care."

"I do!" He bites out, not yelling nor aggressive but with enough force that her fingers stutter against his face. He covers her hand where it lays against his cheek and reaches for her before she can escape. The moment their eyes meet she completely deflates.

"I _just_ got you back." She husks the barest whisper, her near-silent voiced confession catching hard in his gut. Castle wraps her up in his arms and kisses wherever he can reach, his lips landing on her chin before he burrows his face into her chest.

He breathes hard against her, "I'm sorry," and his fingers clench in the shirt at her back.

"I know." Her voice is nothing but hot breath over the top of his head, no fight left in her. She sags into him, clings, fingers just shy of bruising.

"I'd do it again," he states, holding on when she shakes within his arms, truth hard to hear, hard to bear, but necessary, "I'd do it again for you, for us. For _me_." She shakes more, her entire body a violent shiver. "But I'm sorry."

"I know." she squeezes him hard, she's tender in her grip and the stroke of her palms down his back are more soothing than he probably deserves, he knows he scared her, again. She covers his lips when he tries to apologize again, pushing him back so she can climb into his lap, resting her head against his own, sighing deeply. Breathing him in.

She understands, it doesn't make it better, but, somehow, it helps.


	15. First

"_**There's a moment, between a glance and a kiss, where the world stops."**_

* * *

**August 2015**

He's late and he knows it, Castle barges someone out of the way to get to her, calling an apology over his shoulder before he catches sight of his wife where she sits, at _their_ table, alone.

Remy's is full to bursting, everyone in a rush and seeking the warmth and comfort that radiates from within. The temptation of good food, friendly faces and a few moments to sit, relax, forget the world at large, all too tempting to be ignored.

"Fries?" He asks as he shucks off his coat, finding his seat opposite her and biting his tongue so he doesn't laugh.

"Mmmhmm." She grins back at him anyway, slathering the plate in so much ketchup that it looks a little too much like their last crime scene for his liking.

"Again?"

"Mmhmmm," she responds with an innocence totally belied by the threat in her tone, "you got a problem with that?"

His eyes widen, and he holds up his hands in surrender, finally comfortable enough to reach for the menu, "You missed one." He points as if to steal it, but she's faster.

"No, I didn't." Kate aims the bottle, her eyes narrowing at the offending slither of potato and then she drenches it viciously, grinning as she does.

"Remind me again to stay on your good side." Castle tips his head to one side staring at the poor fry as she brings it up slowly to her mouth, gnashing her teeth together as she bites into it viciously, tears it in half and chews with relish.

He gulps when her eyes never leave his, each chew well timed for maximum impact.

"It was in the vows, remember." Kate raises her eyebrows in challenge and pointing with her food for emphasis, sending a glob of red goo flying in his direction, "Oops - thou shall not drive thy wife to distraction -" She winks, the facade falls, and he laughs, wiping the stain from his shirt " - unless it's in the bedroom."

Castle pauses for a second, watches her cast aside the empty basket and reach for the full one, devouring the mountains of fried food, his eyes widening the longer he stares.

It starts as a slow trickle down his spine until curiosity pools low in his stomach. "Fries again?" He narrows his eyes, observing the brief stutter of her fingers.

"Mmm, you said that."

"You had fries twice yesterday."

"Mmmhmm."

"Kate?"

"The baby _likes_ fries." She grins, wide and beautiful and her eyes dance all over his face as she chews on another.

"Our baby?" He stage whispers, pointing dramatically at the press of her bump, firm at the edge of the table, and her eyes roll spectacularly.

"No, Castle, the small infant I have squirreled away under the table is stealing my food." She tries for a look, loses it completely when the food reclaims her attention. She eats a few more and then grabs for his hand though hers is covered in salt and tomato ketchup - the slightly spicey one that she cannot get enough of and oh, yeah okay, that's making a lot more sense now.

"It's a _craving_." He grins, guessing correctly and stroking the back of her hand when her entire face lights up.

She licks her lips, and they shine with grease yet part around a delighted sounding giggle. She nods, wipes her fingers and drops her free hand to the bump, sighing softly, "Yeah."

"The _first _one?" Castle's eyes dance as they catch hers for a brief moment. The world seems to hold its breath for a moment while he enjoys it, until he breaks the spell and leans across the table to kiss her in a weird sort of celebration, covering her hand with his own. She tastes salty and sweet and exactly the way he imagines _happiness_ would taste.

"I want more," she mumbles against his lips, laughing as he kisses her again, and again, "fries not kisses, Castle," He huffs and Kate pats his face when he pouts, "The baby _needs_ them," she smiles angelically.

"That child is conspiring against me already."

"Mmhmm, get used to it." Kate pushes her plate and both empty baskets toward him, her meaning obvious.

"Fine," Castle grumbles, sticking out his tongue, "But don't come crying to me if you give birth to a potato."


	16. Dream

" **O, how ripe in show **

**Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!" **

* * *

**November 2015**

Her fingers fluttered to her lips, stunned, eyes fluttering and the quietest gasp drawing his attention away from the stacks of wood. Castle moved to her side, her free hand landing on his lower back and fisting in his shirt with a silent command that he stop moving.

He did.

If it wasn't for the soft, firm, insistent pressure from her fingers, the surprise on her face alone would have held him silent and still. At their feet the piles of firewood he had amassed lay forgotten, dawn creeping through the trees, and Castle followed her line of sight right out across the clearing into the aurora glow.

"Kate?"

"It's a baby," she whispered. Dappled golden light on the leaves and bushes where Kate's gaze was focused. Sure enough, when he could tear his eyes from her and once more look out into the wood a tiny deer appeared, stumbling into sight on long, thin and spindled legs that wobbled and shook with every measured step it took.

Kate was silent in her admiration, thumb sweeping his back as her fingers curled and released in his shirt, absorbed in the emergence of the fawn. Castle followed her lead, losing all will to speak, taking the silence, pulling it inside of him and making it his own. _Their_ own.

He took her hand as she half stepped into his side, looped their entwined fingers around her waist and drew her into his chest, their movements slow, steady and deliberate so as not to disturb the little creature.

Their hands rise from her hips, land over her heart, the steady beat erupting under their skin and becoming the melodic rhythm that keeps them swaying in silence as they stare.

It nudged at a bush with the blackened tip of its nose, sniffed and poked a leaf or too. The wind picked up, shifted the trees and the bush, sending an eerie sound through the branches that unsettled the fawn. It opened its mouth letting out a sound that made her grip tighten.

Castle felt his heart sink the longer they stood there, the longer they watched the fawn nose around and bleat and call out in confusion. Kate turned into his chest and where her face rested, beneath his chin, he became aware of the dampness of her tears, cold grief seeping into his clothes.

Kate was crying and he knew why.

"He's lost." Castle stated quietly and he felt the shudder roll through her, he pulled her silently closer, feeling the nod of confirmation.

"He's calling his mom."

Though she said it on the tail end of a sigh, everything around them seemed to freeze at her words. The wood beyond the house hushed as if lulled by the sound of her voice, one motherless creature in sympathy, at painful peace and in sync, with another.

The fawn's head cocked, ears back and suddenly both big brown eyes focused on them. In his arms Kate exhaled slowly and another shudder rippled out over her skin, the strain of keeping tears at bay quivering through her body.

It watched them for the longest moment, eyes blinking as the sun finally broke the darkness of the night and sent out flushes of warmth across the sky. It watched as though trying to assess them, understand them, find it within its own tiny little body to be afraid of the people that stood on the other side of the clearing

Castle half hoped it would bolt, dash off through the undergrowth calling as it went for a mother he wasn't sure it would find. Instead it opened its mouth and called again and another slightly larger head appeared in the bushes

"Oh!" Was all she could say. Oh, and the grip of her fingers over his heart. Oh, and the fresh dampness of her face on his shirt when the relief exploded through her that someone else wouldn't be motherless and abandoned, unloved and lost.

Oh, and an under her breath laugh, thankful and awed as the mother stepped up and nosed at the fawn as if reprimanding it. Where have you been, my baby? And, what have you done? Why didn't you tell me you were leaving? All there, all visible in the parental act of inquiry and the admonishing stare of it's darker eyes.

A great, shrill mewl rent the air, both mother and child froze and then exploded into movement disappearing into the wood once more as the people standing watching from the clearing turned their backs on the woodland creatures, towards the sound of their own child.

His fingers tightened at her back and she rose up, kissed the edge of his mouth slipped her arms around his neck and hung on.

The sound came again, louder this time, and Castle laughed, drifting warm hands down her back, detaching her from his body and pushing her towards the house. "I think someone else wants their mom too," he smiled and her response was watery, eyes alight with knowledge and fear, but she went.

* * *

It faded into nothing and she woke with a startled breath.

* * *

In the darkness of their bedroom Kate sat up, awareness coming at her fast even as the vividness of her dream gave movement to the shadows in the room. The door became a tree trunk and the chair cast limbed branches out above her head so that it took a few good seconds of steady breathing to find her way back to reality, and to become aware of the tepid pool of water she sat in.

Another sharp tug, insistent and startling, rippled through her abdomen and Kate's eyes widened in shock, her dream perhaps more of a portent than she knew.

Hand darting out to grab her husband, the other still firmly over their unborn child, their dream kiss still warm on her lips, Kate woke him with the one sentence guaranteed to have him upright in seconds.

"Castle, the baby's coming!"


	17. Eskimo

_**ESKIMO KISS: **__**The rubbing of one's nose against another's as a sign of affection.**_

* * *

**Feb 2015**

"We gotta stop meeting like this."

Castle's eyes flicked up from the mirror, the attentive focus on his hair lost at the sight of her and Kate laughed, glad, pleased she could capture his attention away from his silken locks. It was a slow, muffled sound that followed her into the room, stumbling through the bathroom door with bleary eyes and leaden limbs.

Though her feet landed heavily, no grace just need, she reached for him, her hands fisting in his fresh blue shirt, sighing as the strength of her grip drew him closer.

_He_ looked delicious, all morning crisp and warm from the shower, he smelled it too. The worry lines appeared before the smile and she knew what he was seeing. _She_ looked exhausted. She felt it.

"Are you _just_ getting in?" It was hard not to sense the tone of concern, his lips warm at her ear. Castle wrapped his arms around her waist slinking his fingers into her back pockets. It was a little snug, keeping him tight against her, and mm, warm, and Kate fell into him with ease, her chest aligning, hearts colliding thanks to her heels and his bare feet, her arms slipping up around his neck.

"Yeah. Are you heading out?" Her head fell forwards, mouth muffled by his collar, her nose sneaking into the gap between material and skin. Kate inhaled and snuffled against him sending goosebumps erupting out past his throat and down his arms.

"I have a meeting in twenty minutes." Castle breathed into her hair, running his hand over the small of her back as she swayed.

Kate yawned, nodded against him and mumbled, "And I have to be back at the twelfth by twelve." She huffed a laugh as she stumbled over the numbers, too many f's and v's for her sleepy tongue. She closed her eyes against his skin, leaning heavily into his arms.

"I feel like I haven't seen you -"

"I know." She whined, sighing into his skin again, "Me too. I don't like it."

Castle smiled into her hair at the sleep drawn confession. His hands roaming slowly up her back, massaging the tight curl of muscle at the base of her spine. "Almost sounds like you miss me." He teased, lips pressing at her ear. Their schedules were just not the best right now, book meetings and a gruelling case - that he was _absent from_ more than _present for_ \- their days and nights were pretty hit and miss, not ideal for newlyweds.

"I do miss you, Rick." Her muffled mumble came at him with such a tone of melancholy that he couldn't let it slide.

"No more meetings after today," he promised himself aloud, laying a quick kiss to her head when her fingers clenched in response, "get some sleep, solve your case, and I'll let you take me away for the weekend."

Castle smiled against her skin when she laughed, "What's in it for me?"

"You can drive?"

"I always drive."

"My delightful company."

"Mmm'g'on?"

"Breakfast in bed?"

"Might get messy."

"_Me_ in bed."

"Definitely - " she yawned long and low, " - messy."

"You're falling asleep on your feet, Beckett." He hummed, "Go get some sleep."

"Mmhmm, but you smell good." She sighed deeply and clung tighter for a few seconds longer. "Tuck me in?"

Castle laughed, and started the slow walk back towards the bed, ten or so steps that must have felt like a marathon to the woman in his arms, her body becoming looser and more limp by the moment.

"If I tuck you in I'll never leave."

"I have no problem with that." She yawned again, "You do smell _really_ good." The deep snuffling sniff across his collarbone drew the aroma of soap and citrus and something far deeper, more _eternal_ underneath it, into her system. It was warmth, seduction and comfort, and the sweet smell of it pushed aside the tired ache through her muscles. "Something different?"

"No, just me." Castle laughed again, got her to the edge of the bed - her side- and drew her arms from around his neck, "You know you're powerless to resist me," he replied sarcastically as she dropped, a dead weight, to the sheets, "my manly fragrance must be lulling you to sleep."

"S'not manly," she chuckled, kicking off her boots and pushing Castle away when he reached for the hem of her shirt, "it's sweet and - mm - floral? You smell pretty."

"What every man wants to hear." He leaned over her and drew up the covers, leaving her fully dressed. He watched her lashes flutter and barely try to stay open, but her hands rose and claimed his face, smile barely there across her lips when she pulled him down, mouth puckered for a kiss

Before he even reached her face she was asleep.

Kate's fingers stayed curled behind his ears and Castle found himself forced to unhook them, tucking her hands in he dipped to press his forehead to Kate's, swiping the tip of his nose across hers once, twice, three times before standing.

He stroked a strand of hair behind her ear and looked down at her in the bed, she was working too hard, he was caught up with book tours and meetings and missing his wife. They hadn't been married that long, hadn't even had a proper honeymoon, and an Eskimo kiss didn't quite make up for the real thing.

Castle touched his fingers to his lips and dropped them to her forehead, smiling, watching her sleep. They'd do better, they'd take the time. They'd _make_ the time.

He paused at the threshold, head tilted, almost as absorbed in her slumber as she was. Ah, hell, maybe he'd skip the meeting and just crawl in with her.


	18. Shy

"_**I know you're shy but would you, please, just kiss me."**_

* * *

**December 2014**

He finds her in the bedroom practising.

The room is near pitch, darkness a sweeping shadow that she hides below. The room is a quiet cocoon, a sanctuary, just how she likes it for this.

Save for the light creeping in under the bathroom door, that casts sepia stains over skin, he's not even sure she could read the note cards in her hands. He knows that to be deliberate too.

She's testing herself.

The cards in her hands are for show, the speech segmented and broken down on her phone is another. She knows these words by heart, at this point he probably does too.

There's a mirror in front of her as she works her way through each sentence, voice low but steady, yet she never once meets her own eyes. It's not about watching herself or rehearsing facial expressions for the crowds that will hear the words she speaks, it's not about preparing a false representation of who she is to show the world. The mirror is simply there to reflect back a feeling; a feeling that unnerves her.

She hates public speaking. _Hates_ it!

It took him a while to fully grasp it, still catches him unawares enough that he has to stop and take stock of this part of her character even now. But she does. She hates it.

He took time to try and understand, why?

When she's knowledgeable, eloquent, poised. When she's calm and collected. When her words fall almost musically as she speaks. When each verb or adjective is chosen with unprecedented care to make her point yet neither exaggerate nor overstate; when she says exactly what she needs and no more in a tone that holds the exact amount of weight for the situation, levity of tone and inflection, why does she hate public speaking?

He has no idea.

There is an art to giving a good speech, delivering your thoughts and opinions to others in a way that teaches and informs, your rhythm, pitch, timbre and volume all key. It's a gift, and one she has.

He asked once. Needed the knowledge and even now it still takes everything in him not to question her worry and anxiety further rather than follow her through the rituals, a quiet observer. But he did. He asked once.

He asked once, if she is able to command a room full of cops when she needs to, talk to senators and tv execs, millionaires, the famous and the not so famous alike, in their droves, en masse, why is _this_ what makes her hands start to shake?

Why? She replied to him, voice a soft sigh that told tales of having gone over this a million times before; there is no easy answer.

Why does one set of eyes in a crowd of ten or one hundred look at you as though they know the worst parts of you, the parts you don't wish for the world to see? The parts you hide from yourself. Why does that one set of eyes strike deep to your secrets, know them, see them, revel in them and set you on edge? Why?

There is no way to explain it, it just is!

She told him again, before their wedding that never was, that she was terrified of saying her vows. That she'd speak the words that should mean the most to them both, words that would echo a lifetime of love, in front of hundreds of people, meaning them only for him, and trip over them. Maybe she'd say the wrong name, or in the wrong order. Say the words too soon, or too slow or with too much emotion.

She had panicked and practised and in the end, at the wedding that wasn't what they _planned_ but everything they _wanted_, she hadn't used the words that she rehearsed over and over, instead they came at her in the moment, new, fresh, _true_ and stole his breath away.

Perfect.

It hadn't mattered then, it probably wouldn't matter for this either, but it's her ritual and he respects it.

He knows she hates it though, when he walks behind her quietly as she works her way through the speech. Walks with quiet, well timed steps, until he's the audience in the mirror staring back.

Her eyes dart to his and fall away almost immediately, too much just now as she reaches the crux, as she surges through memories and reasons behind why they do this. Why they do it here, this way, _together_!

He lifts her hair away from her neck and drops his chin to the recess he finds there, between shoulder and the deep hollow of her throat, the warm expanse of skin that smells sweetly of her. He waits so she has no choice but to meet his eyes in their reflection.

She's shy, but something about his expression makes her smile.

She recites a joke and he chuckles right into the shell of her ear, her eyes light up, heat blooming against his cheeks as hers darken in the mirror.

She's shy but she glares because it might have been his idea to be funny, a little funny, in that dry mischievous way she can be, and it totally works for the speech.

He doesn't gloat, well, he'll try.

He loops his fingers about her waist, knots them together low on her hips so his thumbs can glide beneath her shirt and sweep over her skin.

Another joke, another laugh and she's got this, her anxiety another mystery he absorbs and leaves for another days perusal. He listens and lends silent support, grateful she allows him near enough to see this process at all.

She tapers off, a little emotional, ending with a memory of a wide eyed little girl that makes his heart ache for her, only to feel his eyes brim suddenly when she mentions him and the life they've built together.

She turns as he steps back, turns from the mirror and makes him the only audience she needs for this part. With her head down, eyes on cards she doesn't require, she takes a deep breath and reads the last sentence.

She thanks _him_, thanks him for friendship, for being her partner, for suggesting this way of honouring her mother in the first place.

She drops the cards, lets the snow white paper flutter to her feet, caught beneath bare toes when she steps in close, reclaims the space that's wholly hers to meet his eyes and say it again, just for him.

"Thank you, Castle."

She's shy, but not with him, not now, not for this. She kisses him and he kisses back, taking the unneeded thanks from her lips and replacing it with love.

She's shy. But not with him.


	19. Slow

"_**Kiss slowly, love deeply."**_

* * *

**November 2015**

"Take it slowly." He hovered, arms full, hands annoyingly occupied and unable to aide her, he realised now she'd probably arranged that on purpose. Planned ahead, made sure he had the carrier and the bags and her overnighter so he couldn't swoop in and lift her off her feet.

"I am."

"Slower."

Kate turned on him with flared vision, fire and smoke and death to anyone in her path, "If I go. Any slower. I will be. Standing still." She bit at the words, clenched her jaw as her verbal prisoners escaped into the room, leaping from her tongue with barely restrained venom.

"I'll come back and carry you if -"

"You will not."

"I-"

"No!"

"Just-" he grimaced, spinning around, trying to find the perfect place to set down his burdens and precious cargo alike, "go slowly."

"I. Am." She gritted out through clenched teeth.

"I know just-"

"Castle, if you say it again I am going to walk over there and _shoot_ you!"

Aha! Table, perfect! "Thats fine," he muttered distractedly, unhooking bag after bag from his arms, "just do it slowly."

"You're a condescending jackass sometimes, you know that?" Kate said with a scrunched nose that did nothing to hide her urge to laugh. Condescending yet, at the same time, a total sweetie.

His eyes twinkled, as if he heard her calling him sweetie, and he grinned at her, "Yes dear. _Slowly_."

"I'm not an invalid," she groused trying hard to hide the wince as she sat down, maneuvering her legs underneath her, annoyed with herself when he caught the flash of pain that darted across her face.

"I know that." Castle stood straight, his voice low and warm, suffused with pride and utterly serious when he spoke, "You're amazing." He bit it back for a few seconds but eventually he gave in and laughed at her expression. Eyes narrowed in suspicion, dark shadows beneath making her look like a panda - his suspicious panda - she looked ridiculously gorgeous today.

"Stop looking at me like that." Kate mumbled, easing back trying to get comfy, shaking her head when he threw a look of innocence in her direction. It fell on deaf ears, or blind eyes, and Kate ignored him, instead she held out her arms expectantly as he deposited bags either side of her, arranged paraphernalia and the necessary items she might need in the next few minutes.

Kate searched his face, watched the way he opened and closed his lips while moving, knowing he wanted to speak. She held her tongue as long as she could, then blurted, "But?"

He didn't deflect, or try for humor and she was glad of it, thankful even.

Castle sighed, "But you did just expel a small - but quite long - human from an area -"

"Designed to do exactly that?" She interrupted, arms up, "give me my child. _Slooowly,_" she enunciated, defiance and no small amount of _possible bodily harm_ flooding her tone.

Castle carefully extracted the sleeping boy from his carrier, his fingers slipping underneath the warm bundle of their son and pulling his tiny arms from the straps. He was curled tight in a scrunched little ball, mouth popping apart at the first disturbing touches, mewling in annoyance for his disturbed sleep. Castle's eyes cut to Kate's and rolled infinitesimally when she waggled her fingers, he scooped the baby up in his arms and Castle raised the boy until his lips were over his ear, "Put in a good word for me with your mother, 'k, and when you turn eighteen I'll buy you any car you want."

He moved in close, lowering their boy into her waiting arms.

Kate kissed his little head, snuffled where his cap met his tufts of spiky hair, speaking quietly, "Never side with your father and I'll teach you how to drink," she promised, settling the child against her chest and snagging Castle's shirt before he could retreat.

"No fair, I don't have boobs." He grinned, misunderstanding clearly a deliberate act, but his smile fell away the longer she held onto his shirt, pulling him in and making him lean heavily on the back of the couch so he didn't squish her or the baby.

"I'm fine," Kate swore, truthfully, her eyes wide, "tired and a little sore. I ache in the weirdest places," she smiled when he snorted, "and so gross I'll need an hour in the shower to feel vaguely human, but Castle," she tugged at his shirt collar, pulling him 'til their foreheads touched, her words a soft sigh, "I'm fine. Better than... I'm-" her eyes closed, she smiled, "I'm-"

_Happy_ went unsaid, yet when she blinked her eyes open seconds later, they shared a look, a knowing gaze of contentment. Now they were back home, together again, with their baby safely tucked between them. Castle smiled in return, traced her jaw with one fingertip, believing her completely, "Okay."

"Now kiss me," she mumbled against his lips, "slowwwwly."


	20. Rain

"_**I want to kiss you, with the rain pouring down, hair clinging to our faces, clothes clinging to our bodies, and us clinging to each other."**_

* * *

**Valentines weekend, 2015**

Lightning splintered the sky and she gasped, mouth opening for his invasion. Their lips collided as the first white streak crackled out into the sea and the heavens opened. Thunder rolled, growled curses at the ocean, screamed hurricane anger at the waves to batter the shore and her back collided with the brick.

Ice cold rain fell from above, the pitch black night sky losing all semblance of beauty as the stars shrunk back from the storm, hiding behind the clouds that gathered overhead.

They didn't hide from each other.

The rain pummelled their skin and he spun her, pushed her up against the outer wall at the side of their house and devoured her mouth, drank from her lips, sipped and then gulped down her kisses with relish. He couldn't see her, only feel, the rain sweeping away his vision.

He inhaled the scent that mingled when the water met the curve of her neck and ran in great weeping droplets out over her flesh. He inhaled and shuddered, and dove into memories of showers and baths and caught in the rain and the very first night she'd spent in his bed.

He kissed her, uncontrolled, untameable and she rose up, burning bright in the midnight darkness, and kissed him back.

She was ragged heat under the coldness of his hands. The slow movement of his fingers creeping below her shirt, and his palms spreading over her, just so, drew out a long, gravelly groan of pleasure. She caught his eyes, stared deep, shared in those long ago memories of rain plastered clothes and broken hearts healed, and then she caught his lip between her teeth, tugged and licked and bit out a delighted curse, right into his mouth when he touched her.

She flinched away at the coldness when his wet hands claimed her, only to throw herself back into his grasp, desperate to be closer.

Goosebumps erupted _everywhere_.

Slowly, as the thunder yelled bloody murder at the rolling waves and the lighting zigzagged once more, he began peeling away the splattered mess of her now see through white shirt, sweeping his fingers over her to still her movement when she sought to free herself quicker.

The cloying material bundled and snagged and fell with a wet slap, she shivered into his arms once more, mouths fused under the steady, cleansing stream of water that beat down. His shirt went next, followed by his belt, her fingers stinging points of ice contact when they slid across the exposed skin of his stomach.

He hissed and she smiled, lips and teeth clashing with his .

Oh, retaliation!

He smoothed his palms up her back, opened his hands in her hair, fisted them tight and shuddered at the echoed fall of moisture wrung from the tresses. With her head angled back his lips caught at her mouth's edge, darted down to lick the drips from her chin before smudging their way over the pulse in her throat.

Oh, retaliation indeed.

She spun him, ankle to the knee - the good one luckily - flipping them around and holding his hands at his sides. Her nails dug into his wrists, immediately soothed by the suggestive stroke of her fingers over his pulse, her teeth biting out at the underside of his jaw. Bite, bite, bite in time to each booming crash of thunder. Nature a weapon she wields to spike his temperature, feed his blood and skyrocket his heartbeat.

She plundered his mouth, dragged her nails down his chest and smoothed her hands over his heart through the wetness that gathered, bathing his scorched flesh in falling rain.

In the drenching downpour she began to strip.

She lost the shorts and the bikini that she'd worn all day as the last of the lightning splintered the sky, throwing the clouds into disarray. She dragged him free of clothes too just in time to hear the thunder yell out to the stars it was safe once more, and she laughed at the stunned look on his face when she stepped away from him, naked, her arms held to the sky.

"Where are you going?" He called loudly, voice raised to conquer the downpour that would not cease.

"It's raining," she yelled back, beckoning with a crooked finger that he follow her, "you're coming with me and we're going skinny dipp-mmhhh."

He swallowed the last of her words, lifted her off her feet and marched them towards the shore.


	21. Bubbly

"_**Your kisses are like laughter, bubbling over my skin."**_

* * *

**December 2014**

There is applause.

They might even be on their feet but he cannot tear his eyes from her up there behind the podium. He wishes his view was the same as theirs, that she could throw her eyes out into the crowd and see him and he could give her some kind of universal signal of _always_ and _you rock_ and _damn, my wife is extraordinary_, just for her to see and smile at. He wishes, but she wanted him here.

She kept hold of his hand right until the last second, bound up tight with antisipation and needing him close, she almost tugged him beyond the red curtains that drape the length of the makeshift stage. She's giddy and forceful in her grip, excited because the benefit is a roaring success before she even takes to the stage and gives the speech.

But she did and everyone that can stand is on their feet and he might have tears in his eyes because of her words and he's heard that speech so many times and yet never, ever, at all the way he heard it _tonight_.

Castle applauds along with everyone else. Swallowing thickly, he waits for her return.

Then she's there.

She bounds off the stage, giddy and light and straight into his arms.

He has to stumble back to absorb the impact.

Her feet bounce, her smile is wide and just bordering on the crazy manic side, consumed with relief. Her arms wrap around him, squeeze him tight enough to make him wheeze and she gives this great, heaving _post traumatic event_ sigh straight into his ear that makes him hug her back.

Then she makes a sound about as close to a squeal as Kate will ever make. Ah, screw it, it's a squeal, no denying it, she laughs and squeals, hugs him hard and smiles up at him so very pleased with herself.

She pulls back, kisses his lips with a smacking sound that makes him laugh. A great, big, _mwaaah_ to his mouth that seems to latch her enthusiasm onto him, skin to skin, like osmosis, he takes on her emotions and giggles with her.

She kisses his cheeks and his nose and wraps her arms around him and squeals again.

It's a magical night. Kisses and giggles and _her_, vibrating with excitement in his arms.

He pulls back slowly, holds her face to see her smile, "So ... speech went well?"

She laughs again, nods into the warm palms of his large hands and grins. "You can say it," she breathes out, eyes suddenly brighter, "I don't mind."

Castle draws her in, shaky grip, sweaty palms, beautiful woman and all. He presses his lips to the shell of her ear, says the words quietly, only for her, knowing what it takes, what it _costs_ for her to hear them, "I told you so."

She drops her head to his shoulder for a brief second and then the laughter bubbles back up inside her. The kisses following close behind.


	22. Morning after

"_**And I kiss you, while the sun kisses me."**_

* * *

Sun light streams through the gaps.

Small flecks of gold fall like pebbles through a waterfall, in dappled, dotted contortions as they hit the floor and scatter in all directions. The light sprinkles the new day about them with glee. Born in the sunrise, the heat of morning is followed by longer, thicker, more defined strips of light throwing rainbows out where the stained glass window remains untainted by a covering.

Sun light streams through the gaps and pours itself in molten pools that gather in the dips and hollows of his back, calling to her fingers and the press of her mouth, calling for her touch and the press of her skin to his.

The sheet's tugged low, his skin is warm and haloed by beams of fractured light and this vision of him, strewn across the bed they demolished together, is the first thing that greets her eyes when she finally pulls herself up from slumber.

It's a hard fight, but one she doesn't shy away from, the promise of him at her side more enticing than the satiated weight of her limbs. More intoxicating than losing herself in memories of the day - and night - before.

He's still asleep. His arm curled beneath the pillow, one hand reaching out behind him across the bed and when she flutters her gaze low she becomes aware of the warmth of his fingers curled through her own.

They're holding hands. They fell asleep that way and they awoke in the same position and though maybe they have untangled and reconnected over night, right now they remain ensnared in each other. Touching. Holding on.

In love.

Kate sighs and her eyes close on the length of her breath, warmth like a drug through her blood that pulls her back down into the intimacy of their bed, only for her to exhale and feel her chest, her very being rise up with the air that escapes her.

She slips her fingers free of his and flutters her touch the length of his arm. Naked, peaceful, she draws patterns over his skin, the crease of his elbow, the pulse of his wrist. She follows the soft hairs higher until she caresses muscle that enraptures her.

His arms bind themselves about her body the way his name twines her tongue in ecstasy, the way his soul circles her heart. Bewitched by the way he holds her, tender and with reverence or tight and inescapable, every movement is another reminder of all they have shared thus far, all that lies before them yet untouched.

Her breath stutters, eyes close and she dips her head to breathe him in.

Her movement follows over his shoulder, curls the joint and her nails scrape through the hair at the nape of his neck. He hums in sleep and shifts into her touch the same way he does when he's awake, the rasp tingling his scalp as her fingers graze upwards and tug at the mess of his hair.

She smiles, presses the joy of her lips into him, chin resting featherlight on his back, grinning at the way all the strands on his head stand on end.

She really did a number on him.

Not one hair is in place thanks to her craven grip, hands fisting and stroking depending on his movement, his talent at the time, his devious preoccupation with which particular body part.

She drapes his back, presses the cool and naked skin of her own chest to the heated length of his spine so that her lips rest just shy of his ear. She kisses his cheek, closes her eyes and kisses again, rippling fingers following the fall of his hair and the low tumbled drape of the sheet.

There are so many ways she could wake him this morning. Dirty, naughty, delightfully suggestive ways. And with so many words on the tip of her tongue.

Rick.

Castle.

Lover?

How to choose just one?

His hips strain against the bed as he starts to rouse, his cheek lifting, even in sleep he feels her close and the rumble through his chest - pleasure, contentment, _remembrance_, all - makes her decision for her.

She kisses his earlobe as his eyelashes flutter, eyes finding hers in a sideways sweep.

"Good morning -" she hums, "- husband."


	23. Reunion

"_**I would kiss you right now, if only you were here."**_

* * *

Darkness comes and he crosses his legs, ignores his aching limbs and curls his body into a tight ball, allowing himself to be caught up in memory.

He starts off slow, with the image of his daughter through time. Little hands in his, deep chuckles of laughter, his fingers knotting in her hair the first time he messed up her braids.

She morphs into his mother, hair that same tonal red he remembers from youth. Calling her mommy, calling her mom, and finally mother. Holding her hand and running to her where she waited for him at the school gates.

He trips down memory lane and clings to friendship and family and finds his way to love. Deep, penetrating love!

_Beckett._

His eyes close.

Beckett and the call of her voice, the mad and frustrating, tantalizing and tease. The crushing weight of pain and the dizzying heights of passion.

Beckett and heat. Beckett and the soft brush of her fingers over his face. Beckett and every kiss they have ever shared.

Beckett. _Always_ Beckett.

It lasts for hours, minutes, seconds. He has no way of knowing, time lost meaning the day he was taken and when memory no longer suffices he turns - as he has for so many years - to fantasy.

To make believe.

And for a little while she's there with him. For a little while she kisses him in the dark and makes the nightmares fade.

Sometimes it's soft and sweet.

Sometimes it's hard, rough, full of longing, rib crushing, and stealing their breath.

Sometimes it's everything their first kiss wasn't and sometimes it's a slowed down, captivating play by play that takes that one sacred moment and turns it into something mythical, unobtainable. Delirium setting in.

More often than not it's new and strange. It's a kiss that ghosts their lips together, eyes open and tentative, touch barely a thought. He breathes her in, her aroma swirling around him like a second skin, the fall of her hair hiding half her face.

He catches himself reaching for her, to curl the strands back behind her ear, to search her eyes desperately. He knows the weight of her gaze, the effort it takes to push worry and suspicion from the look she levels him with, he knows she'll question the touch of fingers that have missed her, have longed for and craved her. He knows the weight of all he is bringing down on them will leave their kiss burdened and heavy with things they had finally left behind.

She'll part her lips with a look that raises unspoken questions, not with the hungry yearning for the press of his own mouth, the deep, penetrating sweep of his tongue. She'll want answers he cannot give.

His lips to hers may leave them both hovering, both fearful, yet he needs it just the same. To be close to her again he'll endure whatever he has to, craving it all.

He swallows down the terror and the pain and clings to Beckett's ethereal presence as long as he can. Before they come for him again. Before he has to leave.

He clings to the smell of her skin, the dip of her forehead, eyes open and breath slow as she watches him. There will be concern in that mesmerising swirl of hazelnut and moss, there will be doubt, but there will still be love.

Please, god. There will still be love.

She will ask questions and he won't be able to answer them and the confusion will be a heavy price to pay.

He knows these things and more and yet, alone, he imagines getting to hold her again, to kiss her, and as darkness falls and puts another night between him and the woman he loves, he lets his eyes fall shut once more on the promise of their reunion kiss.

Whatever it may be.


	24. Wet

"_**Press your warm, wet lips to mine, and kiss me like you mean it."**_

* * *

Blistering heat caught the air and made it ripple, shimmer and stutter until vision danced. The sunglasses slipped to the tip of a sweat slippery nose, and their eyes caught above the rims.

A smile was exchanged back and forth, heat not only in the air now. No, it flared between them, fire and lightning caught in a lip bitten by teeth and the slide of hungry eyes the length of a sunkissed body.

Fingers curled.

Hips collided.

Their lips met for a brief second. A second that exploded with promise and desire and play. Smirked intention became trapped in that movement of sweet mouths and sweeping tongues, before rough, desperate fingers pushed them apart and the task at hand was remembered.

Time enough for distractions when debts had been paid.

Another bucket of water cascaded over the car, steam rising up from the cold metal, and a seat was taken for observation.

Drips spattered, caught in the hem of ridiculously short denim shorts, trickled down thighs and over well toned calf muscles in a way that caused salivation. Water pooled around toes that curled and flexed in the relief of cold water and a carnal sigh rent the air drawing attention straight to the lips.

White bubbles slid over brilliant red and strong dextrous fingers curled around the sponge clenched within the tight grip of soaking hands. Familiar hands, hands that danced across the machine before them in an artistry born of seduction.

Bubbles exploded from the sponge, spattered out in a pornographic eruption of hot foam that drew a groan of anticipation and a throaty laugh of satisfaction.

Suspicions instantly confirmed.

_Tease._

A bet lost and a task near completion, washing the car had never felt like foreplay before, yet seated, blood boiling, she took him in, her desire mounting and she couldn't help herself from wanting to stare a little longer.

Kate swallowed thickly, voice tight with desire as he rounded the bonnet, clearly convinced he was done. She pushed herself back in her seat, crossed her legs and moaned as he wrung out the sponge, water dripping the length of his thick fingers.

Her voice was a purr that erupted unbidden, a lustful tone that didn't go unnoticed as he stalked the vehicle with predatory pleasure. Their eyes locked. Her glasses slipped to the tip of her nose as she pushed them lower sucking her lip into her mouth. The sweet salty tang of her own skin stirred her senses and she extended one long finger, pointing to the tire nearest him.

She tilted her head as he bent over, thoroughly enjoying the view. She held his gaze as the shorts rode higher up the backs of his thighs.

"Castle, you missed a spot."


	25. Last

_**A/N: **_I'm bringing this story to a close a little earlier than I anticipated, thank you all for taking the time to read and review. This one fits in in and around the very first chapter.

* * *

"_**When I was standing up there, I kept thinking about all the times we've kissed, and I was trying to decide on the best one..."**_

"_**And what do you think?"**_

"_**I think we're just getting started."**_

* * *

_After the wedding._

* * *

The music is quiet, barely more than the faint strains of a piano, maybe a violin and Castle's deep, rumbling hum as they rotate slowly in time to the music. They did it, actually married each other, and with her head on his chest Kate finds it impossible to tear the smile from her lips.

His hands are warm, fingers spread wide on the low curve of her back, holding her close so that every time he mumbles along with the tune of the music the vibrations through his body spark out and fizzle through her own. It's delicious, a sensual flow back and forth, each of them enticing the other.

Her own hands are flat against his chest, playing over the beat of his heart, the unbuttoned edge of his shirt, touching skin, darting out and curling in the collar of his jacket. She can't keep the excitement trapped in her fingertips and Kate lifts her head, her voice softer than she expects when she asks, "How are you?"

It sounds silly, but she still wants to know. Wants to know if his voice holds as much pent up emotion and enthusiasm for their new life together as hers does.

Castle smiles down at her, barely a drop in height but enough that she looks up and he looks down, and what there is of that short distance between them is filled with laughter.

And giddiness.

And _lets run away together before anyone notices we're gone._

"I'm okay." He shrugs, nonchalantly, his smile peeking through the edges of his hidden amusement at her question. "Pretty quiet day, really."

She laughs, bumps him with her forehead and calls him a name not really fitting for their first dance as man and wife. Except it is, it really is. It's them and how they are and yes, him too he knows he is exactly what she called him, spinning around and shrugging like it's nothing.

It's not nothing and they both know it.

His hands slide higher as they turn, thumb stroking out across the bare skin of her neck so that Kate scrunches a little at the contact, moans, fights a smile and then gives into it wholeheartedly.

"How are _you_?" Castle asks, his lips just shy of her ear. He knows he took her by surprise with the whole thing.

"I'm wondering," she breathes quietly, touching his face when Castle's eyes drop to hers. They don't cloud though and she loves that.

"Wondering?"

"If I would have done anything differently, had I known." Her eyes spark mischief, deliberately leaving her sentences hanging.

He takes the bait, retaliates by stroking a certain spot on the side of her neck that has significant meaning to them both. "If you'd known?"

Kate shivers, a whole lot of _last night_ bright in her eyes and low in the warmth through her belly. She tips into his touch as he smooths over the skin that sets her pulse thumping, catches his eyes and lets the low simmer bubble up and spill over.

"If I'd known that this morning was the last day I'd wake up _single_." She smiles wide when Castle freezes, his bottom lip dropping and his fingers squeezing all for the shortest of split seconds before he tugs Kate in tighter and starts them spinning again.

It's good to know she can still cause that reaction.

She laughs when he has to shake himself out of it, smiling too, utterly in awe of the realization. It's not that either of them have felt single, or unattached or whatever the hell you want to call it, for a long time now. In truth they were probably married more than most people long before Castle offered her that ring, long before they started dating even. But now it's legal. And binding. And official and just _wonderful_.

She goes with him a little crazily as he spins her, her feet quick stepping through his slow waltz so that he has to steady her, calm her, still laughing. Giggling.

Okay, they might both be a little love drunk.

"So would you?" He asks, trying to regain some composure. At some point in the future someone is gonna tell their kids about this moment and he really doesn't want the story to start with, _this one time daddy danced mommy right into the cake._

"Would I?"

"Have done anything differently if you'd known, if I hadn't sprung it on you?"

"Hmm." She pretends to ponder, everything so lovely and perfect but hmm, actually maybe.

"Might have worn a dress." She laughs as his eyes seem to darken at that suggestion and he licks his lips, "Maybe fixed my make up a little differently, curled my hair."

His eyes rove over her face, fingers sweeping low on her hips now, "You look okay to me." He smirks and somehow says that with more meaning than if he'd called her beautiful or gorgeous, exquisite or extraordinary.

Kate laughs, lifts up and whispers, touching her tongue to his ear, "Might have worn sexier underwear."

"Ungf."

It's a non sound that means _damn you, woman_ and _images_ and she laughs loudly, drawing the room's attention to them when she has to cover her near guffaw by burying her face in the curve of his neck. Her body shudders with laughter against his and after a few teased seconds of imagination Castle joins in, his arms tight around her, cradling her to him.

It's more of a hug than a dance now, a married couple cuddle in the middle of the room.

"What about you?"

"Me?" He's too lost in the soft stroke of her nails through the hair at the nape of his neck, her scent that engulfs him, the soft way she sighs against his skin, warmth and contentment in the gentle caress of her breath.

"Would you have done anything differently?"

"Hmm." Castle pretends to copy her, her pondering face suddenly his own, his too innocent eyes wide and blue and staring off into a land of _what if_ and _maybe_. "I wouldn't have worn sexier underwear."

Kate pouts, she's not afraid to admit she likes him dressing up for her as much as he enjoys her dressing up for him.

"That would have require _wearing_ underwear."

She snuffles into him, laughing, smiling, joyful. Her skin is hot against his cheek and oh, she _loves_ that idea. Her fingers drop dangerously low and she really, _really loves_ that idea.

"No make up."

"Mmhmm." That word she called him might be creeping to the tip of her tongue again.

"And my hair always looks good."

"Vain, babe." But she's grinning, he can feel it.

"Not vain if it's the truth."

"Off topic then."

She's right, his _wife _is right. That's gonna happen a lot isn't it? And would he have done anything differently today, if he knew it would end like this?

"No," Castle tilts her chin and finds her eyes, nothing but honesty and love in his statement. "I wouldn't change a thing Kate, not one, single, minuscule, teenie tiny -"

Her fingers dart out and cover his mouth, "Shut up." She rolls her eyes and watches his lips part against her skin, the ache to be alone with him starting to make itself known.

"And kiss you?" He mumbles, wet and warm and a little sloppily gross against the pads of her fingers.

"Yes please."


End file.
